


Bean

by Papillonn



Series: Bean [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Happy, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Lost Love, Lover - Freeform, Miscarriage, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Starting Over, Strangers to Lovers, Strife - Freeform, Trauma, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 70,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillonn/pseuds/Papillonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After falling in love with a young American he meets at his favorite library, young Tom Hiddleston wants nothing more than to build a life with her. When tragedy strikes and tears them apart, all of his dreams come crashing down.</p><p>Nearly ten years later, at an art gala in London, Mr. Hiddleston, recently having ascended to fame, spies Elizabeth Blair and hopes to rebuild everything that had been broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ditto

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is fiction and does not depict any real life events. Plays and professional career are entirely out of order! I've taken some real stuff, and added some fake stuff. I'm not an expert at geography in the UK, so please forgive any shortcoming there. 
> 
> I may post oneshots to accompany the story. They will be smut filled!

There was something about libraries that always drew him in. Maybe it was the way they smelled like rotting parchments, or how violent whispers lingered in the air. What ever this thing was, Thomas Hiddleston found them irresistible. In his younger years he had made it a habit of visiting the local library once a week—every Thursday, actually. He’d go and finish assignments for school, or simply pluck a book off one of the shelves and devour page upon page. He loved the classics best, and always had quite the illustrative mind when it came to developing scenes in his head. His love of libraries grew as he went away to boarding school, and then stayed strong in his heart as he attended Cambridge, an accomplishment that even he had a difficult time wrapping his head around. 

The work provided so much of a pleasurable challenge, that he enjoyed being locked away in the dustiest isle of books he could find to ensure solitude. There was something so picture-esque about the scene that made his belly warm with memories of home, and an ideal life. 

He wanted to act. The notion was lodged firmly inside of his heart that when it dared to peak out, he shoved it back down firmly, not allowing any one else to know of it. Acting belonged to Tom. He had used it as an escape for many different obstacles in life. It always seemed like a forbidden fruit, and he was tempted over and over again to take a bite. 

His father, James, was a scientist by trade and heart. He understood the world as if it consisted written chemical properties. He loathed the idea that Tom was so unsure about life. He wanted his son to be stable and independent always. The idea of being a nomad and living off of pot noodles worried him to no end.

So Tom kept acting to himself, and visited the libraries as much as possible. In those things he found his solace. 

Friday night after mostly every one had packed up and gone back home, Tom stayed buried away in his usual alcove, iPod playing softly inside of his ears, Othello perched on his lap while a discarded Latin text lay limp at his knee. He was in a daydream when he smelled the lovely combination of cinnamon and vanilla pass by him. Normally he was very good about ignoring the outside environment, but in this instance, his head bobbed up, blond curls flopping over his forehead, and saw the source of his curiosity. 

One of the assistance to the head librarian was struggling with a load of volumes for reshelving. Tom’s brows rose up in confusion. Why hadn’t she used a cart? He quickly stowed away his books, and stood to his full height to help.

“Excuse me…. Here, let me take some of these.” He reached out his long arms and snatched up some of the books before they were able to crash down. A soft gasp came from the girl as a reflex to the impending danger, and Tom was sure he could hear her heart along with the breathy ‘shit’ that passed by her lips.

“This is quite a lot,” he laughed awkwardly, trying to aid in a balancing act, while grabbing more to alleviate her pile even more. 

“I had it.” She muttered, huffing all the while. She finally resolved to setting them down on the floor in front of her, and just running to and fro to catalogue them. Tom followed suit, with a loud, ‘thump’. 

She looked up at him for just a moment, and then looked back away, still annoyed from a previous altercation, and now arrested for a moment with the baby faced stranger that had just been so kind to her. She knew that it was appropriate to thank him, but all she could do was settle her hands on her hips and say,

“You didn’t have to get up. You looked so engrossed.”

She was American. A tiny American that stood a foot and a few inches under Tom, to the extent that he had to look down in order to properly hone in on her. She was fit with girly curves, and wore a pair of jeans and a worn football t-shirt with brown hair weaved into a messy crown braid with pieces falling haphazardly around her face. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were dark. She had a small spatter of freckles along her cheek and nose, and dark lashes. 

“I’m shocked you could see me with all that you were juggling. Isn’t there a cart for you to use or something?”

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as if she was about to tell him something that had sat heavy on her tongue for a while.

“Have you ever seen that old guy at the front desk who looks like he’s constipated and sex deprived?” 

Tom nodded fast.

“Well that is my boss, and he is a sexist ass hole who spent the last hour lecturing me on how heavy lifting could possibly effect my ability to reproduce in the future. Fucking creepy. So I decided to spite him.”

A shout of laugher came from Tom sounding so rich and light that it caused the girl to reciprocate the smile. 

That’s when he first noticed them. 

His knees felt weak, and his chest felt tight as he noticed the two sunken in spots, deep within the stranger’s chubby cheeks. Dimples. She had heavenly dimples and they made his heart do a strange dance inside of his chest cavity. 

A few moments of silence echoed through the isle.

“I’m sorry… do forgive me. Can I help you reshelf these?”

“No way!” she hissed indignantly, “could you imagine what old sour puss would say if he saw? Go back to Shakespeare, Romeo. Memorize some pretty line, then go down to a coffee house and woo the hell out of some poor girl.”

With that she turned back on the withed sneaker she wore, and began the task herself. Tom swallowed, embarrassed, and then puffed out his chest, refusing to let go of this magnificent woman without a name at least.

“I don’t want to woo some girl. Will you tell me your name?”

“No. What’s yours?”

“Tom. Why not? Why won’t you tell me your name?”

“Occupational hazard,” she heaved, pushing herself up on her tipy toes in order to place a book in its appropriate spot. Relief spread through her like wildfire when she was finally able to get it without assistance. 

“I’ll ask your boss….”

She turned, a copy of a Spanish dictionary in hand, with her eyes a hard line of annoyance. 

“You wouldn’t dare,”

“Tell me then.”

Sighing in aggravation, she turned back to the shelves and focused on what she needed to get done in the next hour before heading home.

“Elizabeth… but everyone calls me Elle.”

“Elle,” he breathed back automatically. “A very beautiful name. It is lovely to meet you, Elle. I hope to see you again. I come here mostly every day.”

“I know,” she replied without turning, “I see you. It’s kinda hard to miss that birds nest on top of your head, Tom.”

His smiled, the bow of his mouth turning up, and his cheeks flaming red. 

“Perhaps you would like to have some coffee with me instead? I mean, we don’t have to drink coffee. We could have tea… maybe even a drink a little later? I know of this great pub—“ but he was cut off before he could finish, his exhilaration getting the best of him and making him prattle on like a loon. 

Elle turned again, this time without the dictionary. 

“Ok.” She said with the roll of her eyes. 

“Ok?” Tom repeated, dumbstruck. 

“It means yes, you idiot.” She huffed. Tom grinned from ear to ear, setting all of his white teeth on display for her to see. Her eyes softened for a moment, and her arms folded across her chest. “Though I prefer coffee. It’s the way to my heart.”

“Coffee it is,” he beamed. “What time will you finish here?”

“I have another hour.”

“Alright. I’m going to pop into to a professor’s office for a bit, and I will be back in an hour. We can walk together. It’s dark, you know?”

“Duh.”

“I like you, Elle. And all of your hilarious sarcasm. Don’t go anywhere, ok? I will be back.”

His words were like a vow to match the serious expression on his face. It made Elle laugh, and her dimples poke through again. Tom nearly swooned, disappointed that he had to leave. He was afraid that the moment he headed out of that library, that his shot of seeing Elle again would be slim to none. He was afraid she would have just been some figment of his imagination. 

He walked away from her walking backwards on long legs, making sure to keep his eyes glued to her, glad that he was amusing as he coaxed giggles from her, quickly replaced by smirks. 

“Go!” she finally insisted. He couldn’t argue with that, so he turned and left hurriedly, willing the clock to some how turn faster, and bring him to the mysterious, alluring Elle once more. 

___________________________________

 

Once Elle was confident that Tom had left her alone, she shifted by the books, and grabbed one of the shelves for supports, clenching them tightly in all of her excitement. She’d noticed Tom when she began working at the library two months beforehand. She caught him by the contemporary lit section while she’d been restocking. He stunned her so much with his wild hair and blue eyes that she’d stowed away like a nervous little schoolgirl.

She’d almost forgotten about him in the past few weeks that she’d been so busy. One of the plays that she was set designing for was about to begin production, and she’d been tied up in meetings most of the time. Last minute approvals had to be considered, and plan B’s had to be in the deck. She worked free lance part time at the National along with her steady day time job as a library tech. It wasn’t the most thrilling job in the world, but it provided steady income so that Elle might be able to afford her single bedroom studio that she was proud to call her own. 

Elle was American through and through. Before coming to live in the UK, she’d lived in San Diego with her father. He was a typical workaholic with too much money and the singular ambition to make more and more. Elle had been studying law when she decided to throw her hands up and confess that she hated what she was doing and needed to be free. 

It was one of the best choices she had ever made. 

She bought a one-way ticket to England and set up shop with the pathetic amount of savings that was her own, and worked her way to the dingy flat that she took quite a bit of pride in. Her father was still furious with her choice, but he did not press, fully expecting his darling girl to come crawling back when money ran short. 

Elle hadn’t had any time for romance in the year that she’d been in the UK. She was so fully prepared to be on her own, that the idea of opening up her life to someone else seemed preposterous. So she’d avoided anything that could potentially lead to her sharing herself with anyone. She had never intended to agree to coffee with Tom, the nerdy, lengthy dude from the library. But he was calm and kind, and she was starting to get lonely. 

Elle didn’t have friends yet. She knew a couple of the people in her apartment building, but they were more or less the people she’d expect to phone in if her flat were burning down, not the type that she’d share intimate confessions with. Back at home Elle kept a few very close-knit friends, including an ex-boyfriend of hers. She preferred long lasting, and meaningful relationships with others. Nothing fleeting. For Elle that wasn’t enough. She had a greedy heart. 

After she’d calmed herself enough to continue with her task, Elle finished her reshelving and then made her way back to the front where Mr. Ghantly was stationed in his usual spot, with the usual look of contempt on his face. He said nothing upon her arrival, just motioned towards the next pile of books she needed to take care of. There were not so bad because they were all academia. It meant that she’d dealt with them often and had practically memorized their location at that point. 

She actually hummed softly to herself while working…

As promised, when Elle finished her shift and was preparing to exist the library through the front double doors, Tom stood there in his coat, with a scarf bundled around his neck and a wide grin on his young face. 

“How did it go?” He asked, referring to the restocking. Elle’s eyes rolled. 

“As fun as ever. I’m looking forward to a massive cup of coffee.”

“Right,” Tom gleamed excitedly. “Shall we?”

He helped her into her coat, and frowned when he spied that she had no scarf. He decided not to try his luck with her, and opened the door for them to exit. The cold bitter wind hit them harshly. It almost instantly turned Elle’s cheeks red. 

“It’s a blocks down.”

“The Black Kettle?” Elle asked, “I go there all of the time.”

“How have I managed to never see you there? I’m in for a cuppa nearly every day.”

“So you live close by?”

“I’m housed in one of the halls. Do you live nearby?”

“I have a studio close.”

“That’s good…” he commented, fisting his hands deeply inside of his pockets, seeking warmth. Elle did the same, and Tom noted as they walked that she was nearly silent due to the cold. “You’re cold, darling. Here…” in a flash, Tom unwound the scarf from his neck, and caught Elle by the shoulders so that he could neatly wrap it around her own. She did not protest, merely looked up at him as he concentrated on tying it just right. 

“There. Better?”

“Thanks,” she mumbled feebly, knowing that under the freezing cast that had been cast over her body, she would have been blushing furiously. The scarf warmed her considerably, and it smelled like rich soaps, with masculine undertones. She pressed her cheek into the cool fabric and they began to walk again, 

“So what do you do, Tom?” she asked briskly as they continued to walk.

“I’m a student right now… I’m studying the classics. “

“What do you want to do after school?”

Tom debated the truth for a moment. If he was speaking to his parents he would have easily let a lie roll off of his tongue, but for some reason, he was drawn to the truth with this girl.

“Act.”

“Really?” she asked in a tone of disbelief. “I’m a set designer.”

“Are you really?” Tom inquired, suddenly fascinated.

“What, did you think I spent all of my time risking my reproductive health in the library?” 

He chuckled at her remark. She was hilarious. Her humor was smooth and not at all forced. The overwhelming sense of honesty within this human being was a breath of fresh air to Tom.

“I’m actually contracted right now through the little local place... I’m finishing up my official sets for Othello in May.”

Tom’s eyes bulged and he stopped right where he stood. Elle stopped to, confused and looking so much smaller in Tom’s scarf. 

“I’ve auditioned for Cassio!” 

Elle couldn’t help but grin at the admission and set Tom’s heart aflame again with her ostentatious dimples. 

“Wowza… If you get it I guess I’ll be seeing you a lot.”

Tom’s brows struck up goofily, and suddenly Elle silently prayed that he would get the part so that she could see him often. It splashed over her like vivid paint illuminating a lonely feeling that she hadn’t come to terms with. 

“You’ll be seeing me a lot anyway, Elle. Play or no play.”

____________________________________________

 

The coffee place was quite and intimate. It was a clustered hole-in-the-wall with mod paintings hanging around, and a fireplace built into one of the walls that blazed freely, warming the entire place. Elle snuggled into her coat and scarf, staring off at one of the ceramics on the heath while she waited for Tom to get back with their coffee and dessert. He’d insisted that a cupcake was entirely necessary after dealing with a ‘sexist arse hole’.

His phrase made her laugh and agree to a coconut-flavored cupcake. She’d eaten one before and it had been delicious. 

But Elle couldn’t really focus on how good a cupcake was going to taste, or even how badly her belly yearned for it after having skipped her lunch break. Instead, she was enraptured by what had taken place.

“Sorry about that,” Tom’s bubbly voice came breathless as he delivered our coffee and cakes. I smiled and murmured a polite thanks to him while he settled in across from me. He looked so young with his smooth face and piercing blue eyes. His lips were a soft bow and were naturally quite pink. He had a healthy blush on his incredibly high cheekbones, and the intensity of his straight smile made Elle feel a little jittery.

“So I believe we left off with you telling me about where you grew up,”

“No we didn’t!” Elle gasped, seeing his sly smile and the trick he’d played.

“Well, then,” Tom rectified, “where did you grow up?”

“America,”

“Obviously, I meant what part.”

“Have you been?”

“Disney World at 17.”

“I’m from California. San Diego.”

“I’m not entirely familiar with American geography. But I do hear that there are many beaches in California. You left the beach for the rain?”

“No.” she responded, tight lipped on the subject. When Elle saw Tom’s broken confidence over the dejection, she leaned forward and smiled, “Some birds aren’t meant to be caged. I’m a bird.”

“You are a bird.”

“Yes.”

“Please don’t fly away just yet.”

A giggle met his ears, and Tom relaxed back into his seat, thumbs pressed against the disposable coffee cup. He desperately wanted to ask more questions, but he was terrified to do so. He didn’t want to scare her away at all. He only wanted to exist in the same place with her for a few hours and learn as much as he could. 

“When are you going to tell your parents that you could care less about the classics and that you want to become a starving artist?”

Tom’s eyes flew open wide at her non-subtle admission. How had she easily gathered so much information about him? In that moment, Tom panicked and thought that perhaps she was just a dream, or a cruel joke. But her pressing gaze suggested otherwise and demanded an answer. 

“I dunno, really.”

“Are you scared?”

“I guess so.”

“Coming from a person who has been there and done that, take the fucking leap, Tom. Don’t think about it. Just jump.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” he blurted out. Elle’s eyebrows rose to her head in surprise and Tom’s cheeks turned into a record shade of crimson. 

“Ditto.”


	2. Queasy

He hung around the rest of that week, spending as much time as possible wading through the library waiting for his chance to see her again. After their candid talk at the coffee shop, and shameless flirting, Tom had been so high in his excitement that he forgot to get her number. Instead, he waited around all day like a fool, hoping and praying to see her once more. 

Every day when it was time for him to return to his hall, his heart plummeted within his chest. He was very tempted to ask Elle’s perverted employer about her, but he was wary of doing so because he didn’t want any trouble for her. He would leave the library and walk to the coffee shop where they’d spent nearly three hours earlier the week beforehand, and become depressed when he realized that there was no mass of wild brown hair nursing café mocha by the fire. 

His hopefulness became bitter quickly. Tom missed companionship dearly. He was a serious lover. Having had only one girlfriend before, he tried to make things—time count. He was enamored by Elle.

Finally on the sixth day of his rituals, he deemed the task futile, and hung in the towel. He was preparing to sit in his usual spot for an exam revision, having smuggled in a biscuit from the local shop near his hall. He’d been neglectful, and was looking forward to clearing his mind with Othello in order to better prepare for the role that he possibly had. After plugging his ear buds in, and opening the withered pages, he almost didn’t notice when the familiar scent wafted through his nostrils and waned through the small alcove. 

“Hi.”

She seemed much shier that she had initially. Before him stood a woman that was embarrassed and unsure of herself, instead of the bold American girl he was sure he’d fallen in love with a few nights back. He quickly chided his heart for being so foolish. 

“Hello.” His response caressed her and she shut her eyes momentarily, letting it drift over her like a warm blanket on a cold night. She’d missed the sound of his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes saddened.

“You have been avoiding me, then?”

“Only because you make me nervous!” she said in a rush, feeling the air almost escape her body. She fidgeted with her fingers, as he suddenly stood, no longer feeling comfort in his cozy nook. He looked excited, and exasperated all at once. Elle wanted to ask him a thousand questions, but she couldn’t say anymore, because her heart was hammering too fast inside of her chest to rationalize anything. 

Apparently words weren’t needed. 

Tom was far more liberal than Elle would have ever given him credit for. As he messily smashed his lips to her own, and ignited a squeak of surprise from the tiny girl in front of him, all of Elle’s preconceived notions floated away, and suddenly she was flying. 

There had been more expert kisses in Elle’s book of love, but this was more tremendous than anything she’d experienced so far, because of how it made her feel inside. Her chest exploded with pure, fiery happiness. Tom was a gentle giant and scared of being over imposing. He was shy in his movements as his fingers came up to softly caress her jaw and tilt her head further up to accommodate his height. His touches were soft and feathery and made Elle pray that time might stop so she could feel this beautiful forever.

Eventually it did stop when a passerby squeezed through them to get to the books that they barricaded. Elle laughed nervously, Tom still holding her cheeks in his hands. He brushed his forehead against her own and a smile stayed perched on his mouth. 

“Oh god.” She said. 

“Are you still nervous?”

“I think so. You smell good, and your tallness makes me a little woozy. I still have your scarf, you know? Did you do that on purpose so I’d have to see you again? It is good to see you again.”

“Elle,” he commanded softly, trying to ward away her rambling. She was clearly uncomfortable with the shift in the dynamics. His fingers slid upward under her cheek and swept softly, encouraging her to look up. She did.

It was almost amazing how handsome one man could be. Tom had the face of a boy and the voice of a man. His hair was especially curly this morning. A pink tinge on his cheeks brought out just how blue his eyes were. Elle realized she could stare at him all day long if warranted. 

“Yes, Tom?” 

“Breathe, darling.”

“Kiss me again?”

He did. 

He kissed her several times through the next few days that they were inseparable. In line at the cinema. While feeding ducks in the park. Across the table at brunch. While trying to properly order all of the Oxford English Dictionaries. Tom’s kisses were like honey and became sweeter after each one. He was gentle and polite. He made Elle feel like she was running laps trying to keep up with every significant moment. He was a poet on long tarantula legs and it terrified her that this wasn’t something.

The casual dating was strange. He took it so seriously and was almost like a boy out of a cheap 90’s movie, with all of his awkward stature and geeky smiles. He was nervous most of the time. It made Elle laugh out of the blue, and when he wanted to know what she found so amusing, she couldn’t properly describe the ‘looks’ he made. 

Elle was certainly the brazen one. She shocked him with the things that she did. Her opinions always floated freely, and she was unreserved. Tom may have been fooled when they’d first shared a kiss, but Elle was by no means shy. She got a kick out of seeing him blush and the surprise bubble in his bright blue eyes. 

On the third week he asked if she would be his girlfriend. 

“…Elle? Elle… are you laughing at me?” Tom incredulous voice turned to resolute disbelief as he watched his current fixation double over the bench where she sat, nearly dropping the ice cream she’d insisted on. Her face turned bright red, and tears leaked from her eyes she laughed so hard. Then there was the period where no sound escaped at all and he actually became worried that she would pass out for lack of oxygen. Finally, she was consumed by unladylike snorts that made him shrink into his coat. Was the notion that ridiculous to her?

“No, no…Tom! I’m not laughing at you… well, maybe I am,” with that her cycle of mirthful hysteria began again, this time with the addition of slapping her knee roughly in a display of opulent Americanism. “God, you are so fucking cute. I can’t even stand it. You’re face! You looked as if you were going to pass out while you asked.”

“And you find that funny?”

“I find you’re embarrassment and nervousness funny,” she clarified, licking the cone in her hand. It was so cold outside that it stayed frozen, allowing her to neglect it as often as she wished. 

“Did you just make me go through all of that humiliation only not to give me an answer?”

“I find it crazy that you need an answer, pretty boy.”

He scowled at her. He hated that pet name.

“All I mean is that we are kind of a…thing. You play tonsil hockey with me all of the time, and I wouldn’t let just anyone do that,”

Tom flinched at the manner in which she spoke. 

“You make it feel like such an honor,” he remarked sarcastically. Elle frowned, disappointed that she had actually struck a nerve within him when all she’d wanted to do was have some fun. Tom meant more to her than she could ever properly explain.

“Sometimes I feel like I am going to throw up when you kiss me,” Elle said blatantly. Tom’s stomach dropped. “Most people call them butterflies, but my nervousness always makes me feel a little queasy. But holy moly is it a good type of queasy.” 

Tom stared at her speechless.

“Tom, I am proud to say you are the first man to ever make me feel queasy,” she beamed. 

She wasn’t like the rest. She was loud and boisterous. 

He loved her.

Three weeks and not even calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend and Tom loved his queasy Elle, and suddenly the thought of being anywhere where she didn’t exist made him queasy; the bad sort.

“I’m glad I can make you feel ill,” he breathed. She smiled softly, and genuinely. 

“So I can tell everyone that Thomas Hiddleston is my boyfriend?” she elongated the final syllables of friend and made him laughed.

“As long as Elizabeth Blair promises to be his girlfriend and remain queasy.” His lips hovered dangerously close to her own, and the sides of his eyes turned up and wrinkled. 

“Conditions accepted.” 

Elle’s lips crashed softly against Tom’s, the smooth texture pleasantly familiar. Tom wasted no time taking her upper lip between his own and sucking gently, entranced with how luxurious she felt. He could felt her teasing smile as she opened for him, her tongue meeting his own in a soft dance. Tom’s thumb and forefinger held her chin in place, melting into a puddle of gratitude that he loved libraries as he did.


	3. Sick

______________________

 

It didn’t take long before Tom finally learned exactly where Elle lived, despite her attempts to conceal that piece of information.

After nearly a month of dating, she’d slipped through the cracks whenever he suggested taking her home. Instead, she said that she needed to head over to the theater to finish sketching, or start some new designs. Tom always got distracted with his excitement for the role he’d won. He’d beg her to tell him what the sets looked like, and sometimes she would spend over an hour painting a lovely picture in his head.

Since the shows rehearsals were approaching soon, Tom had begun to dedicate more time to his study of Cassio. On some occasions, Elle would lay her head in his lap while he read lines, absent-mindedly stroking her wavy hair. Elle loved hiding away from life; especially if it involved Tom.

After calling her incessantly for two days in a row without a single response, Tom finally became too frazzled to respect any sort of boundary issues she might have had, and called about Ivonna, Elle’s closest thing to a girlfriend, to aid him in finding his tiny American.

Ivonna worked with Elle and her set design crew. She was friendly, but older. She intimated young Thomas to no ends. Tom often wondered how Elle felt about the fact that she was so young and her employees were older than she was. He would have felt immensely awkward giving orders, but she seemed to excel at it. He’d be lying if he tried to deny that he enjoyed watching her give orders. 

It was very sexy.

Ivonna called Tom with the address, and like Elle had told him when they first met, she lived off of Milton in a small studio apartment.

He arrived in front of them and was struck by how homey it felt. The surrounding area was vast and not overpopulated with buildings scattered like they were further into the city. It was opposite of Elle’s modern disposition. But Tom didn’t have too much time to stop and study the environment that she lived in, because his worry took precedence. 

He found her flat and knocked urgently, miffed that there was no peephole in order for her to check before opening the door to someone. What was even more shocking was when Elle opened the door without so much as a single word to protect herself.

She was sick. He could tell straight away. Her skin had lost its glow and adopted a strange grey cast over it. Her eyes were hazy, and her face cast downwards in a dull frown that told him how terrible she felt without truly speaking at all. 

“You’ve had me worried sick,” he chided, remembering his endless panic. He stepped forwards, trying to enter the flat only to have her say:

“You don’t want to come near me, trust me.”

“Trust me, that I am not going to allow my inconsiderate girlfriend to be ill without anyone to take care of her.” He was still angry that she hadn’t contacted him. Seeing her so miserable helped to quell the negative emotion away and have it replaced with sympathy. 

“Tom. You are running the risk of getting sick, buster,” she warned.

He rolled his eyes and pushed past her, immediately assaulted by the scent of her flat. Tom was intoxicated by her fragrance on a daily basis. He would inhale sharply when she was near in order to have it fill his nostrils more deeply. Standing in the middle of the place where she lived, surrounded him in the blissful smell. 

“I’ll risk it,” he breathed. 

She huffed and shut the door, not entirely comfortable with her new beau coming into her apartment without first asking. More she was disappointed in herself for not having him over sooner. They’d been dating steadily for over a month and she’d been to his room at the halls on several occasions. Elle had met the majority of Tom’s friends and they’d had drinks together on several occasions. She appreciated the fact that he allowed her into his life so easily. 

Elle was much more closed off, though. Even through all of her blatant honesty, she rarely enjoyed talking about her existence before moving to Europe. Tom had an odd feeling about her secrecy, but never pressed. He naturally wished for her to be happy above all else. 

“You should have phoned me, darling. I could have been here sooner,” he murmured, enveloping her in his arms and bringing her close to his chest. As much as she refused to think, his looming masculine presence comforted her deeply. She took in his aroma, and shut her tired eyes. She had been feeling ill for quite some time and had put off going to see anyone just yet. Right now the only thing she wanted to focus on was how good Tom’s lips felt on her temple where they were currently planted.

“Thanks for coming to rescue me, Romeo,”

 

_________________________________________

 

He had her lie down on the other side of the studio after a small tour. There wasn’t much to see. Like most young people who’d uprooted abroad, Elle had a humble home. Tom was entranced by the style of it all. It contained elements of her funky personality. Pieces of art were hung everywhere, light hues splashed over the walls that were not made of brick. 

Tom searched her cupboards and found a pot of soup that would have to suffice. If he knew her well enough, he knew that she wouldn’t have been feeding herself properly. He also got a kettle going for some tea. His mother had instilled in him that tea made everything so much better. 

Elle observed from the spot on her sofa as Tom bobbed through the kitchenette like a lost child, trying to maintain some shred of dignity. It made her cheeks feel warm in a kind of way that she wasn’t accustomed to. Breathing softly to herself, she sighed and tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling. Her eyes shut temporarily and she allowed herself to remember how good it felt to kiss Tom…

When she woke, it was dark outside, and she was wound around a firm body that she’d curved herself into. In a brief moment of unknown panic, her body tensed and she gasped, but then she noted her fingers, carefully intertwined with much longer, more elegant ones, and she relaxed. She must have dozed off after trying to stay awake long enough for tea. She hadn’t been sleeping since she’d gotten ill over the weekend. It was difficult when she could hardly breathe out of her nose. The moment of peace had been much appreciated. 

She shifted; slightly embarrassed by the twist her body had done to accommodate her boyfriend. He was much longer than she was, and his legs had contorted strangely in order to stay on the sofa with her. One arm was securely wrapped around her shoulders, while the other held her hand where it rested against his chest. His face hovered atop of her own, exhaling steadily, proof of his own rest. The scene comforted her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d fallen asleep with someone. Perhaps her ex-boyfriend, Malcolm, but it never felt like this. This spread warmth through her like wildfire, and made her heart beat erratically within her chest. 

She shifted slightly, and felt terrible when she caught his eyes fluttered open, momentarily out of his wits. He blinked rapidly, and then squeezed Elle’s shoulders tighter, pressing his lips to the crown of her head, and breathing in a gentle sigh of contentment. 

“How are you feeling, my darling?”

“Tom," Her voice was quiet, and scared, and serious all at once. 

“What is it?”

“You’re not going to disappear one day, right?”

He chuckled warmly. 

“As long as you will have me, I will be yours, Elizabeth.”

She breathed slowly, and shakily.

“That’s good to hear,”

“Are you scared?”

“I’m scared that I will never feel this good again.”

He buried his face in her hair in a moment of sorrow for her. He hated that she didn’t feel adequate enough to deserve this type of romance. It also made him wonder about her past relationships and whether or not she’d experiences her self-proclaimed ‘queasiness’.

“You are truly remarkable,” he said, “When I saw you in the library, I nearly lost all of my breath. I don’t do this often.”

“What do you mean?” she inquired, tracing her thumbs over his palm.

“I’ve had one serious relationship beyond you. Lila. She was a student with me and I loved her dearly.”

“What happened?” there was no frost or contempt in Elle’s voice, just pure curiosity. Tom sighed audibly.

“She was very serious about what she wanted to do. So was I. There was a lack of support that made us crumble.”

“Is she still with you? In there?” she poked his chest, indicating that she meant his heart.

“My heart has room for one lover, Elle.”

“And of all people, you chose me?”

He smiled softly, making her heart seize up.

“We chose each other. Now come, my little bird, you’re burning up. I think it’s time for some tea and medicine.”

True to his word, Tom made a new kettle of tea and served it with beans on toast, disregarding the soup he’d made earlier. It looked suspicious, and it was not his goal to make his girlfriend more ill than she was presently. 

He set it out in front of her at the small bar where she was perched sloppily on a stool. He carefully dosed medicine for her, and watched as she swallowed it down, hoping that the effects would be immediate. 

Tom had taken care of Emma before when his parents were on holiday and she was sick. Thought not much younger than him, Emma had been very dependent on his fetching of this and that. His parents had them staying at their aunt Fanny’s place. She was nearly deaf and slept more than she should have. The experience has taught nine-year-old Tom about dealing with sick people. They just wanted to be doted after and coddled. He was happy to oblige his American girl in both senses. 

After she ate a few bites, she explained that she needed to have a bath. That made Tom swallow hard. She was weak, and he was worried that she might hurt herself. He didn’t voice his concern, merely stepped into the tiny bathroom, and began to draw up a bath for her, mixing in the soaps that she used to smell so divine. 

When he came back into the living room, she was nude.

He didn’t know how to react at first. She was hot and cold with him. One moment she was unsure of her place in his heart, and the next moment, she stood nude in front of him, proud in her own skin. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

Still, he looked away.

Elle scoffed.

“Your bath is ready, darling.”

“Would you care to join me?”

“You’re sick,” he pointed out. 

“I would like to be close to you. Even if that doesn’t mean sex.” 

Tom stared at her, pupils dilated. He wasn’t sure how to handle this very sensitive subject. He didn’t want to deny her something that she wanted. As her partner, he was obligated to fulfill those desires. She just wanted a tactile connection. Tom imagined seeing her naked for the first time, quite differently. He was a romantic with silly notions about sex. He wanted to make love to her, worshipping her beautiful body. He never guessed that she would bear all to him so easily. 

“I am not sure if that is a good idea,” he repeated in different words. “I am a man, Elle. And you are very....sexy,”

“I trust you.”

“Thank you, darling, but I don’t trust me…. Come, I will sit by you and read.” He turned around again, comfortable with seeing her now that their agreement stood. Relief claimed Tom as he deciphered the meaning to what had taken place. Elle wanted him as a sexual partner. His heart leapt to his throat in excitement and fear. He wanted to be every bit of expectation that she had for him.

By the time she sank into the scalding water, he had calmed himself enough to lay the issue to rest, and glad that the bubbles poured into the water covered her beauty from his gaze. He found a well loved copy of sonnets by her bedside, and decided to take the liberty of reading some to her. 

She was the picture of relaxation and comfort in that moment. Her shoulders were loose and free of tension, and she sighed softly, lulling her head back in attempts to recline as his voice washed over her. Tom made anything sound pretty. It made her apprehensive about their future. How would she ever stand her ground if he could charm all of her qualms away with the baritone of his voice alone? She sighed deeply and sank deeper into the bubbles. 

Sex. How had she managed to bring up sex? Her cheeks burned with the thoughts that might have been running through Tom’s head. Had she sounded overly sexual? She didn’t just want sex; she just wanted to be close to him. Tom’s touch did something to Elle that had never been done before. She wanted the sheer intimacy that sort of exposure could give. After what he’d told her earlier today, she wanted nothing more to stand between them.

“How long did it take?”

Her sudden question pierced the room, jolting Tom’s passionate replica of the sonnet he was on. He looked up at her with a quizzical brow.

“I’m sorry?”

“How long did it take for you and Lila to… you know? Do it.”

“Do it?” he repeated in disbelief, his eyebrows perched high on his head. “Make love, you mean?”

Her head shook fast, desperate for this information, as if it held some vital meaning to their own relationship. 

Tom shrugged.

“I can’t remember.” 

Elle huffed at him and sank her head under water quickly, and then resurfacing, hair drenched and eyes blazing with the excitement of the conversation she was going to force him into having with her.

“Don’t lie, Tom. I know that you remember.”

He shut her book, carefully settling it on his knee, his eyes narrowing in on her.

“Why are you curious to know about my previous lover? Isn’t there some rule in feminism that you are not supposed to inquire about ex-lovers? Especially when it has to do with physical intimacy.”

“Babe, even if there was an official rule book, we’d never follow it.”

Tom sighed at the truth of her admission.

“I didn’t sleep with Lila for some time. She was hesitant and I was new.”

“Virgin?”

“Are you purposely trying to rip every shred of dignity from me?”

“I lost my virginity at 20 Tom. Not a big deal.”

“I wasn’t a virgin, with her, though I might as well have been. Our bodies were not well synchronized.”

“You dated her for a long time?”

“I suppose,” he dipped his hand in the water absentmindedly, and when he realized his faux pas, quickly withdrew. “We made love. I was just very… unsure of whether or not I was doing things right. She was not entirely receptive.”

“That’s weird. Maybe she was scared.”

“She had a lot of deep insecurities.”

“Do you like girls with insecurities?” 

He chuckled at the notion.

“I find confidence in a woman a very sexy trait. That is probably the reason I am so attracted to you, Elle. You exude a self-assurance that is humble and fierce. I don’t know how I am still among the living with all that you do to me.”

“Wow.” Elle’s eyes widened a bit as she drank in all that he’d just revealed. A shaky breath came from her mouth as she measured the magnitude of his words. She was sexy to him. That notion seemed wild to Elle. She’s always been beautiful, or simple, never sexy. 

“Too much?”

“Never,” She answered honestly. 

He chuckled and found her bottle of shampoo, quickly lathering up his hands, and then getting to work on her scalp. He massaged and she groaned with the satisfaction of his ministrations. She adored having her hair washed for her. Tom allowed his nails to tease her roots gloriously. She shut her eyes as he began to use a cup perched on the side of the tub to rinse away the suds. He applied conditioner next and then waited patiently, coming back to his original pose. 

“Why are you suddenly very curious about all of this?” Tom deemed it fair to start asking some questions of his own so he could better understand his girlfriend’s intentions.

An audible sigh blew through her lips into the balmy washroom, and she sank deeper into the water.

“I want to have a meaningful relationship with you,” she explained. “I don’t want us to go without certain things. Plus, I want to be close to you, Tom. But if you are not comfortable with it yet—“

“I never said that,” he rushed, his cheeks turning beet red.

“I assumed.”

“Listen, darling. I’m old-fashioned in my belief that sex is special. I don’t think that it is something that should be decided on. I think we should just allow it to happen when it is going to happen. I know that you are by the book, but let’s not schedule it in our calendars, all right? There is a certain element that is stolen from the experience.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way.

Tom didn’t stay the night. He had an exam that needed studying for, but he did tuck her into bed, and give her a foot massage. He left Elle with a soft kiss against the corner of her mouth, and sat in a squat by her for a moment, watching as her eyes grew heavy. Her hair was air dying in the air, and curling up at the ends. He ran a hand through it as a parting gesture, and kissed her brow.

"Be well, my little bird."


	4. Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. I didn't want to make this first love scene about heavy sex. I'm writing Tom's character in these early years as timid and shy as a preface to his development over the years. Hope you enjoy. Xx

Othello officially began and both Tom and Elle became busy, seeing less of each other, ironically enough. It wasn’t completely horrible. He came over and relaxed with her some nights, but for the most part, school and the play took up the majority of his time. 

He felt horrible about it, too. Tom felt neglectful of his new girlfriend, but she seemed not to mind. If anything, she thrived with the hectic schedule. It was like watching her in her element as she prepared things, and delegated tasks. He’d never witnessed anything more hilarious and attractive. 

When the third month of the relationship began, Tom finally decided that it was time to ask Elle about her move. It was something he’d put off for a while because of how she shied away from the topic, but three months later and being positively inseparable proved that it was indeed time to start knowing about each other’s past on a different level. 

She’d been very hesitant to divulge any information other than the fact that her mother was dead, and she’d never know her. Elle didn’t even blink when he’d brought up her family. It was just strange to Tom.

“…Thanks, Tim.” Tom bade goodnight to Tim, the director of the play who’d stayed after to help him with a specific line that was killing his entire Cassio aura. He’d also wanted to stay around for Elle. He’d not seen her much the past week; understandable considering the amount of work that needed to be done before winter break. He didn’t want to make his way back to his dorm that night, and decided he would just stay with her.

She had an open door policy for Tom. He’d only spent the night on very few occasions, all of them accidents that led to a stream of apologies in the morning. Elle didn’t listen to his profuse sentiments of forgiveness, though, because she liked having him overnight. That meant that he was real, and several times, she’d imagined that she had cooked up the entire relationship in her head.

Tom liked to hold her, and she loved to be held. 

“Hello stranger,” Tom’s creamy baritone gave Elle a momentary surprise, and she jumped away from the task of sorting through her look book. She frowned, shutting it, and turning around so that she might see him. He’d filled out for the role, and was exercising more vigorously, which gave muscle to his lean body. His hair was shorter, curls still poking out haphazardly in nearly every direction, and eyes just as blue.

“Hi,” she said, with a waning grin. She’d had a hard day, and a large confrontation with one of the other set designers that had her confidence shaken, and her nerves shattered. Tom could note the exhaustion and wear etched into her features. 

“Come here,” he beckoned. Wordlessly, she walked forward into his open arms, and swallowed a lump in her throat that she’d been pushing down most of the day. Tom squeezed her tiny frame against his own, providing the security and comfort she’d needed just then. “There, there, little one. Let’s get you home. Perhaps we’ll stop for pudding on the way? Yes, then. Ok.”

They arrived back at Elle’s flat a half an hour later, cold, and hungry. Elle ordered take away pizza half way back, and Tom bought a bottle of wine and tarts to share. 

Elle turned the heater up and they both shed coats, mildly discussing what had happened that night that had her in such a state. She bore truth to him easily, and laid her qualms on the table in fairness. Tom was always surprised at how non-judgmental of others Elle was. She did not pick catty fights, and truth was truth in her book.

Tom got the door and paid for the pizza while she got plates and wine glasses from the kitchen. They sat themselves in the main sitting area, having moved the coffee table aside in order to be closer. It was on his second slice that he confessed just how much he missed her.

“It’s my fault,” he told her. “Now that the semester is ending I hope we can spend more time together. Have you thought about what you want to do for Holiday?”

Tom had suggested that they spend Christmas together instead of going home. He was going to visit his mother before hand and celebrate then. But he wanted to have a nice break with his girlfriend beforehand. Othello had paid nicely with a stipend, and he decided the money would best be spent getting away for a few days away from all of the fuss.

“I’m not good at making these types of decisions, Tom,” She admitted feebly, biting off a piece of crust, and then chasing it down with the wine. She grinned at him, and he realized that she was beginning to relax. “France isn’t very far. How about we go to France? We can take the train instead of flying.”

“I have an aunt who keeps an apartment in Paris. She lives in Dublin. Perhaps she’ll allow us to use it.”

She shut her eyes a moment and imagined how good it would be to wake up and go to sleep in Paris. 

“That’s so dreamy.”

“It is very romantic.” Tom agreed, pushing his pizza away. “Have you ever been?”

“Yes. My father had business in France when I was pretty young. I’ve seen the pictures, and I remember a small café. That’s about it.”

Her father. Tom cooled himself down, the automatic desire to spring questions on her slightly overwhelming to him, but eventually it dissolved, and he was able to maintain composure. 

“Does your father do a lot of international business?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I guess so.”

“So you’re well travelled?”

“Tom,” she warned, “Stop.”

She stood up, prepared to clear away the debris, and Tom followed suit.

“Don’t you think you’re being a tad bit unfair? I tell you everything, and in return you say nothing,”

She rolled her eyes.

“There are some things about me that are better left unsaid,”

“No,” he said sternly, “that is not how a relationship works. You don’t get to say what should and should not be said. You’re supposed to confide in me. I am here to support you—“

“Support me? How about support you, Tom? I’ve supported you these last three months like a fucking puppy!” she laughed bitterly.

He stood, shocked, plates in hand, eyes wide. He’d never expected this type of aggression to come from her. She was always forthcoming about the way she felt. It settled him, because he knew he’d be able to keep her happy that way.

“I’ve shared everything with you… everything,”

“A divorce and boarding school isn’t everything, Thomas,” she bit back, snidely. 

The color drained from Tom’s face and his stomach dropped making Elle felt like she had bruised knuckles from punching him in the gut. He looked so stunned and hurt at the same time, and she had no idea what to say to fix what she’d just done. 

He swallowed, and nodded his head. Then he turned on his heel, and grabbed his jacket and scarf by the chair near the door, and left, the door echoing in Elle’s ears. She jolted to consciousness, and darted out of the apartment, and down the hall where she’d heard the entry door click close.

Not caring that her bones were starting to freeze, she ran outside, barefoot, and hair flying from it’s already destroyed braid. 

“Tom! Wait!” she cried out. He turned, and the sadness in his eyes made her own water, and feel penitent for her actions. They began to leak down her cheeks, and she ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “I never meant to say that. I’m sorry!”

Tom had never seen Elle cry before. She was not an unkind person. She was incredibly closed off for reasons that he wanted to know because of the fact that he wanted to be a permanent force in her life. 

“Please, please forgive me.”

“Shh. Darling, shh. It’s fucking cold out here, come, let’s go back in.”

When they came through the door to Elle’s apartment, there was a driving, magnetic force that the fight had spurred, and she kissed Tom hard, her teeth hitting his as his hands sought to pull her close and fisted his hands in her hair. A low gasp escaped her mouth at the contact, as suddenly, she realized they were moving through the room, seeking leverage. Then her back was against the wall. Tom’s hands were seeking out her body, begging to explore. She felt light headed, and needy. Her hands made quick work of shoving the jacket off of his shoulders, leaving him in a sweater that was soft and buttery. Tom’s own fingers quickly found the hem of her blouse and escaped underneath, seeking out the warmth of her breasts. 

Elle’s body seized in pleasure, as his teeth dragged down along her bottom lip, coming back to sooth the discomfort. 

“I love you,” he told her frantically, feeling like the world was closing in, and it was just he and she. “I love you, Elle.”

“I love you, too, Tom. I never want to hurt you. Never.”

“Let me make love to you,” he pleaded, his hands coming back to her face, his lips covering her own once more, this time a slow dance. He hiked her up against the wall by her bum, her legs wrapping around his waist like a vice as he carried them to her bedroom, that was still apart of the main studio, simply set off in an alcove with a bed and side table. 

There was no permission necessary for anything past that point. The consent was so thick in the air, and long sought by both of them, that it nearly strangled the new lovers. Once their minds settled, and they both realized what was about to happen, a mutual agreement to slow down surfaced. Tom was languid; wanting to remember the first time he ever made love to Elle. He wanted the experience to be good for her. He wanted her to realize how much he loved her and how much she mattered in his life. 

They stripped, and took a few moments to admire each other’s nude flesh. Elle’s fingers were hesitant as they explored Tom, touching his bare chest, running her fingers through the wiry hair that was dusted light there. He was firm, newly muscular for his role, and the sight of him naked, sent chills through Elle. Her gaze was incredibly reverent. She touched the planes of his body, and wondered what she’d done to deserve such a man.

Tom bade her to lie of her stomach, at which point, he slowly began to explore her with hollow kisses and feathery strokes of his cool fingers. He was mesmerized with how soft she was. It was easy work to leave her skin broken out with goose bumps in the wake of his tongue. She said his name, a prayer against her lips, causing Tom to shut his eyes tightly and bask in the pleasure of such a sweet sound.

He pleased her. The red lines against his shoulder blades, when she’d been hell bent on keeping him in place, were proof of the pleasure he gave her. The flat was filled with every type of sounds; pleas, whimpers, moans, shouts, all echoing off the walls, threatening to cash down on him. 

When they came together, Tom gasped at how he could sink so far inside of her. He stretched her body in a delicious way that caused her fingernails to bite into his bum, her legs wrapped around his waist as she fought to keep him inside of her. He moved, rhythmically, hips crashing against her own, the pressure of his pelvis sending pleasure shooting through her. 

When the coil, deep in her belly snapped, she clenched him so tightly that his eyes saw black, and a deep, guttural cry pierced the room, his own release taking him so far off the face of the planet that he almost didn’t notice her tears, and the sound of her weeping. 

Tom struggled desperately to get his breathing under control so that he might tend to Elle. He was horrified that he’d hurt her. He’d been extremely cautious, hoping to gain her trust as a lover. He’d gauged her reactions and based his own actions on them. 

“Darling?” he breathed slowly, his body slicked in sweat despite the freezing temperatures. He captured her face in his hands, his body still looming over her own, supporting himself by his forearms. “Elle, look at me. Why are you crying?”

“Because I love you,” she breathed. “I’m crying because I love you.”

Relief flushed through him, and he repositioned himself so that he lay next to her, before gathering her tightly in his arms, and pressing a doting kiss against her temple.

“I love you, too, little bird.”

They rested an hour or so before the sound of pounding rain and hail woke them. Tom slipped out of bed and fetched the rest of the wine and untouched pudding, bringing it back with a single glass and fork to share. Elle was situated against the headboard, her hair a mess, and her cheeks glowing with happiness and a new found prospective on life. 

Tom was a phenomenal lover; the best she’d ever had. Her pool of experience was not that great. But tonight had been something very special. There was a primal awakening within her, and suddenly she felt bonded to Tom in a way she’d never experienced with anyone else.

“I’ve heated them up,” he told her proudly, scooting his naked bum under the blanket, and helping her to nestle back under his arm. Elle poured a glass for them to share, and took a long sip, before passing it over. Tom took an appreciative sip and set the glass on the night table beside him. He fed her a bite of tart, and scooped some into his own mouth, and then they sat together and appreciated the rain.

“I was going to go to law school,” Elle began after a few moments of silent. Tom swallowed a bit, understanding what she was doing. He should have been happy that she was finally ready to divulge, but apart of him worried that it would drive them apart. “My father is a very, very rich man, Tom. He’s paid my way through everything. I was at Berkley.”

“And you decided not to study law?”

“I never wanted to. My interest was in foreign studies. I never even wanted to do theater work. It sorta fell into my lap when I left. I withdrew all of the money I had saved up on my own, bought a ticket, and decided to go and see London.”

“How did you father feel about that?”

“We had a massive falling out. I don’t really give two shits. My entire life, he’s always been a shadow, never a presence. Missed cello recitals, not knowing my schoolteachers… nannies galore. I am fucking screwed in the head, Tom.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded softly, kissing her forehead tenderly, his brows crimped together in a line of worry. He could stand to hear her talk poorly about herself.

“It’s true. I’ve got daddy issues. He has always tried to control me financially. I wanted to prove that I could do it… I have, but I lost the war,”

“What was the war, darling?”

“Fighting for my father’s love.” Her voice was a candid whisper, and Tom felt some piece of his heart chip away. He set the plate down, and hugged her so tight, he was sure she’d have trouble breathing at some point. She hummed softly.

“I’m ok, Tom… you make me happy,”

“Ditto, darling.”


	5. Papillon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so off with schooling. Shamefully so since I am a student myself! Who cares? This is fantasy! Xx

It was probably the most blissed out period of Tom’s life. Elle was in her element in France. She was generally a very happy girl, but when released in Paris, where she could practice broken French, and take as many beautiful architectural pictures as possible, she was a woman born again. Tom’s holiday consisted of watching her. It was the most relaxation that he’d felt in a while. He could just as easily lounge with a cup of tea, while watching his lover go to work with a sketch book, thoroughly entranced with the tree that hung outside of the bedroom window they shared.

Nights were heavenly. Since first making love two weeks before, Elle was insatiable, and Tom was more than happy to satisfy the cravings that she had. They were never turned off and always in tuned with each other’s needs. Tom learned Elle’s body like any good lover would. He knew exactly where to touch her in order to make her cry out a certain way, and in a fit of sexual dominance, he made sure that his name was the only one she would remember by morning.

It was very unlike shy and meager Thomas. She had created a monster.

Unleashed, anyway. 

Despite his rampant urgings, Elle refused to go with him into Westminster to see his family two days before their holiday began. She felt uncomfortable, saying that a four-month relationship didn’t really call for the ‘meeting of the mothers,’ as she called it. He wanted to protest, and more than anything, he wanted to show his mother and sister to meet this glorious woman he was lucky enough to call his. He didn’t explain this to her because of a constant fear that lingered within him, terrified that she would suddenly disappear out of his life. It was that feeling that caused him to hold tighter, and kiss longer.

Tom laid the issue to rest, because sooner or later she would be forced into the meeting, and he also didn’t want to spoil the time away they had together. His aunt Terri had agreed to allow them use of the apartment for the week and a half they would be staying in Paris, and had the keys express mailed over. 

Tom had been to his aunt’s before, so it was no surprise to him when he entered the luxurious apartment. Elle, on the other hand, a woman who grew up in wealth, was surprised and felt faint as she walked around the chic, picture-ready living space. She found it hard to believe he aunt wouldn’t want to live there year round.

‘The tourist season is miserable,’ Tom explained.

So they went about living like sloths, eating fine foods, and taking strolls well past midnight, hand in hand, smiles seemingly permanent. They made trips all around to see the major things, via the bullet train. Elle nearly cried at Versailles, as she recalled all of her French studies. Seeing the Petit Trianon was one of the best moments of her adult life. The culture overwhelmed her, and made her chest feel tight. Her grip on Tom’s hand was a steady reminder to him that he needed to be entirely patient and allow her this unrequited joy. It seemed so little compared to the joy she gave him. 

“What do you want to do today?” came the sleepy voice as Elle shifted, ruffling the pure white sheets that served as warmth for the nude patrons. Tom was still half asleep, and tempted to lie in all morning long, and perhaps even well into the afternoon. Last night after getting slightly wasted at a local bar, Elle and Tom made it back to the apartment, vocalizing different things they intended to do to one another, and new things they wanted to try. It had caused them to be up extremely late, and now his limbs ached, and he was tired.

“Let’s sleep all day,” he proposed. Elle huffed indignantly, and in a flash, rolled her body on top of his, earning a loud, ‘Oomph!’

“You’re such a baby,” she said, rolling her eyes, and placing her palms on either side of his shoulders, she managed to straddle him, earning a groan in response. “Mm, I see someone is excited to see me this morning.”

“I think that someone is always excited to see you, darling.” Tom murmured, hand coming up to cup her cheek. She pushed her face into his palm, and he brought her down for a chaste, good morning kiss, that left her a little sidetracked. 

“Hi,” was her shy response.

“Hello, butterfly.”

He called her his butterfly, papillon in French, because when they first arrived, after visiting the Eiffel Tower, a beautiful monarch came and sat on her arm, fluttered its wings, and then flew away, splashing its lovely colors in front of Elle’s silhouette, making her even more beautiful. After that moment, she became Tom’s papillon.

“You’ve got to stop sweet talking me. I’m becoming spoiled.”

“I can’t help it. If there was ever a woman to spoil, it would be you.”

“You love me.” She stated. Clear, happy, blue eyes affirmed this. She dipped her head down to kiss him again. “Don’t stop, ok?”

“Ok.”

They ended up going to the Louvre. On the day they travelled to Versailles, the museum was shut down for maintenance so they decidedly skipped it. Tom was a proponent of this activity, and he easily rose from his post-sex slumber to shower and dress with Elle. 

They took a cab, and then rented bikes. Tom made sure that she was bundled appropriately before the adventure, knowing they were going to face the cold, but she seemed to be taking it like a champ. He told her about spending the summer here once when he was fifteen and how he fell in love with the culture. The rich caress in his voice was tantalizing to her, and made her swoon, her head rolling lazily, while her legs peddled languidly, forcing Tom to adjust his speed for the both of them.

When they finally arrived, they parked and then proceeded to make the line into the musée, Elle quaking with excitement, tugging Tom’s arm practically out of socket in a rather unceremonious ritual that had been developed during their holiday. 

He decided that he liked her in that particular form best. Her raw excitement and condor was very majestic, and ignited everyone around her to join in. Her smile, and sweet dimples were infectious to the masses. Tom was almost sure that she had a gaggle to secret admirers ready to slay him in order to steal his rightful ownership as Elle’s man.

When they finally entered, she was stolen away in the crowed. He didn’t mind, as his eyes travelled around, and he sought out artistic inspiration that sang to him. For now he would let his tiny woman go an explore…

____________________________________

 

He found her in front of the Venus de Milo. Her back was to him, her camera resting at her side, neglected in all of her thrill. She didn’t move, she just looked. People had shifted away, and there she was, alone. The sculpture stood on its own, roped off and stunning.

He approached her respectfully, not wishing to scare her out of the daydream that she lingered in, and when he was shoulder to shoulder, he couldn't resist peaking down at her face, noticing immediately the well of tears in her eyes, sparklingly like glittering topaz, becoming lighter in there state.

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

“Better than alright. This is so beautiful, Tom” she nearly whispered, her voice unbelievably reverent. “It’s like I can’t look at it long enough to burn it into my mind… you know, so I will never have the chance to miss it ever. I don’t understand how something to simple can be so perfect.”

Her beau swallowed hard as her words perfectly echoed his hearts current state so easily. He said nothing, simply reached an arm out, and dragged her shoulders closer to his body, dropping a kiss on her head.

“I love you.”

They had dinner that night at a restaurant close to their apartment. Elle and Tom picked different things to try, and then swapped, all while chatting excitedly about Othello, which was due to start its rehearsals as soon as they came back from holiday. 

Tom had asked Elle to go over lines with him on several occasions. It was something she hated, because Tom morphed into his character and drifted away from her while he was in that zone. It made him unequivocally happy, though, so she obliged, and was more than impressed with his skill and candor. She urged him to confess his distaste for his studies at Cambridge, so he could move on to different endeavors. He replied that he needed a degree in case acting failed.

‘If I know anything about you, its that you are not a failure, Thomas.’

“Do you like it?” he asked in reference to her supper. She nodded happily, and popped another bite into her mouth, and then leaned back, looking at the night sky above them. The soft lighting of the restaurant deck cast over her, and she looked so beautiful and alive.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he prompted.

“I’m thinking about cheating on you with Paris.” 

“You’d miss me,” he replied confidently, “Paris is ill-equipped with all that is needed to keep you satisfied.” Her eyes snapped up to the smug expression on his face, and then with a tiny snort, she erupted in attention drawing giggles. Tom grinned; elated that he could make such a point, and to sweeten the deal, he struck his long leg out under the table at her calf, and nudged suggestively. 

“I’m sad that we’re leaving so soon,” she confessed, ignoring his actions, and playing around with a basil leaf that was stuck on her plate as decoration. “It’s so lovely here. Its like the only thing we have to worry about is trying to do everything there is to be done.”

“Paris is always going to be here, my love. We will come as many times as you’d like. Perhaps one day we can own some property here… like my aunt.”

She stared at him, in a momentary daze.

“You think that far ahead?”

“Yes.” He answered honestly. “They night I slept with you, the cards were marked. I don’t do this fleetingly, darling. I’ve explained that to you.” His blue eyes were washed with concern as to how she might react, but instead of freaking out and leaving her spot, she remained cool and said,

“You’re so different from anyone I’ve ever dated.”

“How so?”

“You consider things other than sex, for one. You look at my face when I talk to you… you call me darling, and my love, and –“

“Papillon?” he offered. Her shoulders shrunk for a moment and she sighed dreamily.

“Papillon,” she agreed, her accent flawless. “I’ve never dated someone whose had an actual interest in the long run. I don’t know whether to be nervous or happy…”

“Be happy. I want a future with you, Elle. A real one, where we build a home together, and we wake up next to one another every day…”

“What else?” she encouraged, feeling her heart swell up a little more with each of his candid confessions.

“You’re not scared?”

“No.”

He looked hesitant for a moment.

“I want to have children with you. I want to raise them in England, but take them to America often so they can have your sense of freedom and wild inhibition… I want to become an old person with laugh lines because you put them there. I want to fight about where I’ve left my keys, and why you feel the need to have takeaway so often when we have a functioning kitchen..... I want to exist with you.”

She reached a hand across the table and found his; squeezing and shutting her eyes, letting his words sink in slowly, seeping into her veins. He was good at saying things. Elle only prayed that he meant them, because her heart was investing in every line. 

That night they made fervent love, uninhibited, dreaming of a future where they were together, in love, and so, so happy.

________________________________________________________________

 

When they returned to home, Tom went back to his hall for the remainder of his uni classes, and Elle continue to work in the library. Othello was due to begin soon, and it would put them into overdrive. 

Elle was privately concerned about Tom’s schooling. She knew that his heart didn’t belong at Cambridge, but just as well, he’d spent thousands of pounds on an education to one of the finest schools. His intellect was superior to the average being, and he was so close to finishing up. She pushed him to work harder than ever, and in the end, everything would be worth it.

Elle was so bent on keeping him focused that she refused weekday visits and made sure that she took on tasks at the library that kept her far out of his clutches. Since becoming intimate, everything turned into lovemaking. It was so easy when it felt so good. There was too much of a risk of Tom clouding his head. Elle, locked in her own head of precious insecurities, was terrified for that happening. She didn’t want him to look back in regret that having sex with his girlfriend was more important than doing well on his exams.

He wasn’t completely cut off, though. When the weekend rolled around, she budged, and he came over with a backpack, looking cross after Elle opened the front door. He didn’t look at her, his lean, lanky frame straight as a board as he looked ahead, arms crossed, blue eyes focused.

“Hello?” she said with an indignant huff, as he marched through the studio, and unceremoniously dropped his bag on the sofa. It landed with a ‘thunk,’ and Elle gasped, “Isn’t your computer in there? You could break it, you idiot!” 

“So bloody what,” Tom said darkly, still avoiding her gaze as he stood by the sofa’s edge. “What do you care about some fucking computer?”

“Tom!” she yelled, “Whatever attitude you have, you’d better check it at the door!”

He turned to her, quite visibly seething, and slightly aroused by her temper. 

“So what the fuck is the strategy here, darling?” There was no form of endearment in his voice, just contempt for her, “Are you freezing me out because I’ve said something? Don’t you dare start up with that bullock that you want me to “focus on my studies”” He made quotations with his fingers in order to better mock her. 

By this time, Elle was furious with his monologue. Her face was contorted in disbelief and fury. She was expecting to have a nice relaxing weekend with him, and now this! He was harping at her about some invisible quarrel, because he refused to believe that she wanted him to focus more on school.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? I’m not freezing you out! I want you to finish school so we can move on! Pick up your bag, and get the hell out of my flat!”

She’d never sounded so English until just then. Tom, with an innocent expression on his face, stared on at his fierce little one in disbelief. Her face was red and flushed, a change from the excitement that he was met with moments before he started acting like a tit. 

“Elle—darling, I’m sorry," he stumbled, nervously. Tom understood by the blaze in her eyes that he'd fucked up. 

“Don’t you sorry me!”

Back to American, he thought, almost amused.

“I’ve been trying as hard as possible to keep you focused on school because I want what is best for you and here you are, acting like an asshole!” 

“Darling—“

“Shut up, Tom,” she growled, running a hand through her hair, “You’re such a spoiled brat, sometimes. God!”

“What is it going to take for you to completely erase my errant behavior?” Was his final plea.

She frowned up at him, hands settled on her hips, so small under his towering frame. It was very evident that though she was much smaller, she certainly maintained heart. Tom was incredibly positive that the fire in their relationship would never burn out. Examining his penitent brow and pursed lips, she sighed and lowered her eyes, giving off one more furious huff.

“Kiss me, you idiot,” Elle mumbled, already bracing her hands for his attack. He kissed her hard, and she cupped his face, breaking apart before he could get too carried away, “You are a dead man walking if you ever do that again."

“Understood,"

He moved his lips back down and kissed her much more gently this time, trying to physically apologize for his behavior.

“I love you, Elle. Thank you for helping me keep my head on straight.” He pressed his forehead close to hers and looked into her eyes and he saw relief.

He felt terrible about his moody disposition. He’d sincerely thought she was thinking of some way to let him down easily. Now he felt like a cad. How could she have wanted to break up with him after the beautiful time they spent together in France? She had made it clear on several occasions that she wanted to be with him. Naturally his mind had run away with him, and he began to prod around the idea. How long did she mean? 

They had spoken about the future and that was reassuring. She’d seemed all right with the idea of a future with him. She always seemed so all right that he speculated whether or not she was internally indifferent. His heart pounded hard in his chest, making the tips of his ears pink in the process. He didn’t want pessimism to suffocate how lovely their relationship had been. He wondered whether or not his relationship with Lila had tainted him to everything but her. Elle’s love was so different. It floated freely around a room, and held residency in her eyes, yet there was never a clear definition. 

It was her father. 

Tom hated what that man had done to her. She was so entirely shut off to the world because of all of the hurt her father had laid on her. She never expected things from people; she was always tense when it came to favors. Tom wondered whether or not she would ever trust him entirely. 

Breaking free, she smiled and it sank his heart. She reached up a hand and ran it through his silky blond curls. 

“You’re forgiven.”

“Thank god for that,” he murmured gently, lips against her jaw.

Elle sighed contently and reached her arms around him, darting up into her tippy toes so that she could hug him properly. Tom, ever the gentleman, wrapped his arms around her back and alleviated her strain, lifting her and holding her close. She inhaled sharply, becoming reacquainted with how lovely he smelled. She wanted to remain in this place forever. She wanted to beg Tom to freeze the hour so that they could be young and this much in love for as long as she needed to soak up the feeling. 

“Have you been cooking?” Tom asked suspiciously, sniffing over her shoulder, spotting her tiny kitchenette that was littered with containers and pots and pans. He turned his face down towards her with a massive grin. Her cheeks went impossibly red and he buried his face in her neck and began to laugh until tears formed in his eyes.

“I was trying to make things perfect!” she yelled with a laugh, as she pounded on his shoulders so that he might release her. Instead, he tugged her tighter as he continued to laugh, finally freeing her so that he could hold her face and kiss her forehead dotingly. 

“I love you. You are perfect,” 

“I think I ruined it,” Elle admitted feebly, turning so that she might see the mess. Tom surprised her by wrapping his hands tight around her waist and brining his lips against her neck. 

“No matter. I’m not very hungry,”

Turning in his arms, Elle grinned silently and yelped in surprised as he easily hoisted her up by her round bottom, his fingertips sinking into the cloth covered flesh as her legs wrapped around his waist. She giggled with reckless abandon as Tom walked the five steps to her bed, dropping her unceremoniously, and then jumping in after her…

It was her favorite pastime. Lying in bed with Tom, after sex and a catnap, was the best feeling in the world. It was during this period of time that he was candid and attentive. He listened carefully to each and every word that came out of her mouth, small grins of contentment, or pure satisfaction forming. He would pick at her hair, or trace long fingers down her spine with no intention of seducing her further, only wishing to make that connection to his lover. 

She stole peaks at his eyes. His gaze, watery and blue. She tried to guess what he was going to be like fifty years from now. Elle made a mental list of all of his personality traits and characteristics. She thought about his habits, the ones that she loved, such as his inability to get out of bed in the morning without pressing a gentle kiss on her face, and the ones that she hated, like how he placed his teaspoon in his mouth after stirring his up, and sucking on it for long moments after. It hurt her teeth to think about that. 

Future Tom, she called him, would be handsome, having aged like delicious wine. His pockets of wisdom would be deeper, and his patience refined and replenished with every year that passed. He would be the type of man who looked into his passed, with a wrinkly old smile, wise and glad. Elle couldn’t help but wonder where she existed in this future past. Was she going to be sitting beside him, holding a precious grandchild, still burning pies? Would he still tuck her legs between both of his thighs to make her feel secure?

No matter how hard pressed she was with the overwhelming need for verbal verification, Elle simply did not ask. She was not ready to talk about the future. This wasn’t Paris where everything was a poetic dream. This was England where their real lives commenced. It was where Tom was cast as Othello in a production she was set designing. It was where actor Tom wanted to surface so badly, but could not because his father was ill against it. She fondly remembered that conversation where he’d bore his heart out about his own dad....

“…He said he wants me to have a real job!” he’d roared, his face pink with exertion. He’d taken a phone call from Scotland earlier that day, and ever since he’d been grouchy and nearly unapproachable. When she’d finally come around and asked him about the call, he’d pounced the opportunity to sing his sorrows. “Just because the entire universe isn’t interested in bloody fucking chemistry, doesn’t mean that my passion won’t bring me success. He’s a cad.”

When Elle asked about Diana’s position on his choice of path, his eyes softened remarkably and made her heart warm instantly. He explained that she’d always nurtured his love of fine arts and was a proponent of dreams. Elle treated him to a bath that night, scrubbing away at his blond curls as he tried to make sense of himself and cope with all that he had on his mind. 

Now lying in Elle’s bed, Tom held her hand and traced her fingers. They were chattering about Elle’s new favorite, ‘Any Human Heart,’ which Tom had always loved. She said that Logan reminded her of him, and she wanted desperately to remain like Logan and Freya forever; both trapped in wanderlust and the need to make love whenever possible. The slight purr in Tom’s throat suggested that he heartily agreed. 

He made suggestions on the next book she should try, and her excitement bloomed as she realized they had similar literary interest beyond Shakespeare. He tickled her ribs, delighted in her apparent happiness. His lips brushed over hers tenderly, and above her ear in a soft whisper, his words pierced deep into her heart,

“Thank you for caring about me,”

That was what two people in love generally do, Thomas, she wanted to reply back. Instead, she rested her head against his collarbone and continued to allow him to tease her flesh until her spine was nearly jelly. 

“It’s love, Tom” she whispered blearily, the outside weather and warmth of the room finally thrusting her into a nighttime lull. He continued to cradle her gently, his thought rampant in that one moment. 

He tried to savor all of the memories they had built together. He tried to cherish each and every time she’d said the word love in reference to him. 

He was so grateful that there were too many to count. 

His own eyelids dragging, he inhaled again, soaking in her scent. She smelled like home. Perhaps that was why he’d been so accusatory earlier. 

Elle was home.


	6. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short birthday drabble. Xx

Othello began and so did the end of term exams at Cambridge. Tom was increasingly busy, and his tiny girlfriend made sure to remind him that she was completely fine with that. As customary of the last few weeks, Tom stayed tucked away with his studies during the days, and nights rehearsing vigorously for Othello, which was due to begin in two weeks time. On the weekends, he slept heartily, and could only do so with Elle tangled intricately into his limbs, giving both parties a feeling of contentment and satisfaction.

Five months. They had made it five whole months, with merely a few spats, and lots of love in the process. He was insane about her. His mind literally went to mush and back again when he realized just how deeply he was infatuated with Elle. It was like loose nerve ending, all threatening to spark and set him aflame any moment. He tried kept record of every intimate moment he would one day want to remember when they were too old themselves to recall. He wrote in a journal, often constructing little bits of French prose while working on papers at the library. Those were always grim afternoons. Nights were challenging because of rehearsal, and to come directly to study knowing that his lover was stowed away in some secret section in the very same building was torture. 

His birthday came round. It was cold, and both Tom and Elle were struggling young artists, pursing their dreams. It didn’t stop Elle from wanting to surprise him, though. A week before they’d agreed that a quiet night in would be lovely. Naturally, the fiery brunette had a different scheme all together. 

It took the help of some of her theater friends to set the plan into action. Tom was a lounger. If he could spend his free time shoveling pudding into his mouth while simultaneously watching a film, he would do so for the rest of his life. So Elle thought of how she could take a rather simple luxury and turn it into something grand and intimate. 

The actors for Othello had permission to use of of the old abandoned theaters just ways away from where they were preforming. It allowed extra rehearsal time for them. Tom would often go there after rehearsal to work on himself and developing the character. He did his best thinking in the absence of others, and since making a name for himself in the word of theater work, he was granted the allowance to visit the rarely used showroom when ever he desired. Elle had gone with him once or twice, but she preferred the library. She called the theater eerie. 

On the night of his birthday, he arrived at her flat, which had mostly become his as well, promptly at seven, making his way through the door to kiss her properly. She grinned against his thin, defined lips, and said,

“Happy birthday,”

“Thanks, darling,” he answered, kissing her temple. He looked around the flat suspiciously. At this point of the night she usually had a fire going. Making love in front of the fire had become a new tradition of their since accidentally discovering the pleasure late one Saturday evening after leaving the theaters. It chased the chill of winter away, and invited a delicious cocoon of warmth and sensuality that only added to the pleasures greedily sought after during the act. 

“It’s rather cold,” he admitted, prying for answers. He was looking forward to the fire and was disappointed when he failed to see it.

“Yes, I didn’t want to chance forgetting to burn it out before we go.”

“Go?” he raised his brow.

“Yes, go. I have a special surprise for you that requires this,” she produced a silky pink sleep mask, bearing the words ‘Dreamer’ elegantly sprawled over the top, and giggled at the confused and slightly repulsed look on his face.

“Elle, what are you up to?” he asked, looking sternly at her, “I thought we agreed on a simple night. I just wanted to hold you,”

The confession set her heart a blaze and Elle nearly melted into a puddle of warm goo just then, ruining all of her elaborate plans. Tom’s truthfulness was so wonderful that she momentarily forgot why his tone had a longing chord in it, and why his eyes slanted as they always did when he was vexed by something.

“Don’t try and sex your way into anything, Hiddleston,” she threatened sharply, regaining the upper hand. 

She placed her hands on her hips, and thrust her face upwards towards his. He thought, with his eyes crinkling up in soft fondness, that it would be impossible for her to look more adorable. It was only then that he noticed how warmly she was dressed, in a pair of long jeans, double jumpers, and her pea coat. The scarf he’d wrapped around her neck nearly six months prior was draped around her neck in an endearing way that made Tom feel a little love sick. He walked forward a short step, and straightened it out like he always did, touching the underside of her chin with his long fingers, bringing it up so he might look into her eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do anything. Just being here is enough, you know?”

“But I have done something, and your charming blue eyes are not going to talk you out of seeing it. So button your coat back up, and put that mask on.”

He huffed, planting a swift kiss on her mouth before obeying her command. 

They drove a while. Elle lapped in circles so that he might be confused and have a hard time guessing. She wanted it to be a complete surprise, and not be spoiled by his well thought out deductions during the car ride there. He did insist on playing the radio, and sang to it plenty off key, forcing throaty giggles from his little driver, a smile tainting his previously annoyed demeanor. 

When they finally arrived, she insisted on wrestling his large body herself instead of giving things away before he saw what she’d put all of her heart into the past few days. Tom could practically feel the excitement rolling off of her, which in turn, thrilled him the same. 

“Now can I?” he asked desperately after they were inside.

Elle locked back up afterward for safety. She’d had Ivonna stop by to deliver some things and put the heater on earlier. Now it was just her, Tom, and the empty theater. It was titillating to know that he had no idea where they were. As far as he was concerned, she didn’t like the theater. 

They came to the main room, and finally, after all of his whining, and secret enthrallment, she gave him permission to take her sleep mask off. 

Tom swallowed hard as his eyes adjusted to the light. There wasn’t much to adjust to, but the past forty minutes of darkness had dimmed some of his senses while heightening others. He scanned the room, slightly delirious and believing that he just might be hallucinating. They were at the retired theater. Standing in the main performance hall, he hardly recognized it with the renovations he’d suspected Elle to be responsible for. 

It could only be described as a giant sized slumber party. The seats were cleared out, and had been replaced with a nest of bedclothes and patio pillows that one might use for a garden party. Fairy lights were strung up from the rafters, intricately weaved through, creating a dust of illumination in the room. On the stage, a massive white sheet had been carefully placed, and the familiar rumble of a projector buzzed from the far opposite end. He noted the cozy little tray will mugs of what he suspected to be chocolate, and his favorite puddings in miniature sizes so that he might enjoy them all before his belly reached capacity. 

For a moment he couldn’t say anything, or hardly breathe.

Tom had birthday parties when he was younger. He could remember pirate themes, and silly hats. He remembered a science set from his parents at the age of ten, and tickets to the theater from his mother at 15. As he got older the parties became dinner parties, and the gifts became practical. Never once in all of his memories, not even as a boy, did he recall the glow and immaculate warmth of surprise that he felt just then. Aside from his childhood birthdays, where anything was better than girly things, his family had never really known him well enough to plan a birthday like this.

This was from a place of deep intimacy, dreams, and understanding. Elle had known him well enough to delve into his mind, find his passion, and leisure in it for one evening. She’d transformed his favorite place into his favorite pastime. There really were no words. 

“Do you like it?” the small, insecure voice prodded moments after. Tom swallowed back emotion as he pivoted, his eyes bright and happy. 

“This is probably one the most perfect things that I have ever seen. I feel foolish trying to explain how much this means to me, darling.” His large hands made easy work of cupping her small face, and he bent his head, making up for her lack of height, and kissed her so hard that she lost all functional thought. When he tore away, and audible popping noise echoed through the room, and then she reached back up, pulling him down by his mop of errant blond curls, and kissed him again, allowing him to lift her up as he so often did. She giggled as her mouth became free again.

“What is the first perfect thing?”

He looked at her and grinned deviously.

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

Low echoes resonated off the walls of the theater that night. When Tom joined Elle in that moment of united bliss, a piercing shriek rang through the place, not mattering to either party engaged in the intimate act. Tom balanced, and lost control. Elle thrived in his attitude, clenching, grasping, and begging mercilessly just like he wanted her to. She kissed his neck, and said his name. He made her promise that she was his and his alone. She obliged in a broken pant. It was sufficient enough for him.

Afterwards they watched To Kill A Mocking Bird on the big screen, and lounged perfectly nude and sexually sated, nibbling on the refreshments and now cold chocolate. When Tom caught her frowning over it, he easily circled his arms around her waist and brought her close against his chest.

“Wasn’t it worth it?”

She blushed. He thought it was amusing because Elle was typically a very outlandish woman who was secure with sex completely. The tinge on her cheeks was endearing to him. He pressed a hard kiss against her cheek and held it there long moments before releasing her. She found her spot amongst the pillows until a hollow feeling washed over her, and Tom held open his arms expectantly, a cheerful, but knowing smile caressing his features. He was so beautiful. She quickly tucked herself into the folds of his body and slipped between his legs, allowing him to keep her warm. 

“Tom?” she asked sleepily, the movie droning on in a way that made her lids heavy. 

“Mmm? Yes, my darling?”

“Happy birthday.”


	7. RADA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice long one for you. Xx.

The night Tom finished his last exam; he came to her place and slept. He was so exhausted that it almost broke her heart into tiny little fragments as she thought of how much emotional strife he’d recently experienced in the name of school and life. He clung to her so tight that it was borderline uncomfortable for her, but she tried to understand the best she could. She herself had run from what she was scared of. There were many nights that Elle felt guilt about forcing Tom to stick with his studies at Cambridge. He so evidently hated them. In the same respects, he was brilliant and he was so close to being finished. She forced him to finish, because before they’d met, he was quietly working towards his schooling, no rebellion stirring inside of his body like it had after they began to love each other so profoundly. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to face in when down the road, in a row with his father, he hated himself for not continuing his education and proving it to everyone that he could. It was battle to Elle. She still struggled with the internal demons of her father that haunted her day in and day out. Tom didn’t notice because he made her happy. Life went on.

The play went for 70 runs that left them both exhausted and delirious most of the time. During the runs, Elle had suggested that now since his board at Cambridge was over, that he move in with her. He thought it was a spectacular idea, but demanded that before that happened, she meet his mother.

Diana was a lady if there ever was such a thing. She was poised, and beautiful, and had such a blissful tone of voice, that Elle fell in love almost immediately the afternoon they met for tea. The majority of the conversation was about how they met. Diana was not officious in her role as Tom’s mother. She did not hate Elle because she was American, and she did not seem to want to talk her son out of loving her. Instead, the lovely woman sat with her chin in her palm, staring with such loving blue eyes as Elle. 

In that moment, with the sun pouring in the window of the little café, the warmth trapped in the little room, Elle almost wept as she felt a mothers love. When they stood to leave, Diana hugged her hard as if she knew her heart, and Elle had to swallow back tears. 

“You make him happy.”

“I love him.”

“Then I love you.”

When they got back to their flat, Elle slipped through the door, her heart heavy, and already feeling the burden of having a housemate. She didn’t have any privacy as tears burred her vision, and she was too overwhelmed to stop them. Either that, or she trusted Tom too much. She braced herself on the wall next to the door, and slowly, her legs gave out support and her grief and happiness taking all of the remaining energy inside of her body. 

Tom, who held a small bag of biscuits, had been following Elle in, and didn’t notice the emotional upheaval until he had shut the door to the flat. Their flat. He’d thought about that the entire ride home as he drove, enticed by the idea that he now lived with Elle. Not only that, but his mum definitely liked her. What could have been more perfect? His mind raced with possibilities of the future and all of his previous uncertainties washed away.

That was until he saw the tears. 

Tom had never seen Elle cry before; perhaps once or twice a few tears escaped her eyes, but never to this extent. He’d never seen her sob so uncontrollably. Not in the seven months that he’d known her had she ever cried. Now thinking about it, it was a bit strange. Women were supposed to be more emotional, right? She’d kill him for a comment like that. His little feminist warrior.   
His heart hammered quickly inside of his chest as he immediately sprung into action, sinking to his knees so that he could see her eyes. 

“Hey, hey… what’s all of this, darling?” he murmured, his tone so gentle that she only wept more, because in all of the months that they’d been together, she’d always clung to little things to ensure that he was there and everything was real; one of those things was the gentleness of his tone. To hear it now, laced with so much concern as her lover, made her belly hurt. “Come here,” he soothed, bringing her tiny frame into his waiting lap, cradling her like a small baby, cupping the side of her face as her cheek pressed into his chest, listening to his heart beat. 

He sat there with her for long moments, rubbing circles into her back and settling his chin on top of her head. He didn’t know what had upset her, but instead of trying to coax it out of her, he comforted Elle. He felt deeply distressed for her. Elle didn’t hold any anguish in her heart. She was always carefree and happy; at times bossy, but always happy.

“Tom,” she said weakly, after the majority of her tears had dried and left two ugly tracks down her face, “The way your mom looked at me—“

“Darling! She loved you!” Tom began to argue before she could finish.

“I know!” she sobbed, “She was so kind and beautiful. I never had a mom, Tom... I’ve never had a mom,”

He felt his heart rip in one swift motion, and a groan of pain rise up in his throat, nearly choking him. He didn’t think to be gentle as he squeezed her tighter against him with a fierce cry of agony. It was torture. To feel such raw pain hurt his heart so badly he wasn’t sure how to respond. 

Tom knew, just then the real definition of love. It was to bear the strife of another so willingly, just because you couldn’t bear to see the person you love go through it. Hearing all of her hurt exist in that one sentence made his heart bloom with the fiercest kind of compassion and gratitude. He was compassionate towards his beautiful girlfriend, who had a sad story, and he was grateful for his mother, who cared for him endless and would hopefully fill the vacancy in Elle's heart. 

He couldn’t even think rationally just then. He just needed to nurture her. Tom pressed his nose against her cheek and held it there. Her fresh tears transfers to his skin.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped the apologies, hardly able to breathe. She was embarrassed by this display of emotions and how vulnerable she was making herself. Even with the notion that Tom was her lover and she knew she was supposed to be able to bear everything in front of him, it still felt shaming. She was an emotional orphan, and the one person who loved her shamelessly had just seen her have a nearly psychotic breakdown over feelings. 

“Don’t,” he commanded gruffly, “Please don’t apologize for the way you’re hurting,”

She buried her face in his chest and continued to soak up his button down in her bounty of tears as he rubbed her back and rocked her intermittently. She didn’t realize that tears tracked down his own face as he felt every ounce of sadness that existed within her. He held her and held her and held her until the sun fell from the windows, and reality blurred out, and Tom had a sleeping little bird in his arms. 

When she woke, he made her tea, and then they sat criss cross applesauce in front of a fresh fire; their one luxury. She’d splashed water on her face and changed into one of his old rugby t-shirts, while he opted for an old jumper. Tonight was somber, and Tom didn’t even find himself in his eternal predicament of being distracted by Elle’s bare legs as she walked around, her bum only just covered by his shirt. Tonight, he simple took his place across from her on the small wooden floor, and carefully watched her as she sipped her tea.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” she asked finally, her voice borderline patronizing. She was in defense mode because he’d seen so much of her. Tom was the lover and she was the fighter, unable to ever accept the fact that it was ok to bleed sometimes. Tom was always going to protect her. 

“No!” he whispered fiercely, not trusting his voice at normal pitch, “how could you think that?”

“I just… lost it, Tom. I feel bad for you,”

“Elle, we are lovers. Do you know why it is important to make love? It’s to be with the person you love during the most intimate time of vulnerability. We’ve been through that, my darling. Why would your tears make me uncomfortable?”

“They make me uncomfortable then,” she murmured, looking away at the brown liquid inside of her half full teacup. 

“Look at me,” he commanded gently. Once her eyes refocused on his, he smiled gently at her, “Your burdens are mine to bear. They are my privilege. Give them to me so that I might make you happy always.”

“You do, Tom,” she reassured. Her elbows set on her thighs sinking in as she became more relaxed. “Meeting Diana was so weird. I’ve never met a boyfriend's mother. I only had T.V. to go off of. I expected hostility and all of this other crazy stuff… and then she hits me with all of these beautiful smiles and I am not sure what it did to me, but that sort of pure affection she has for you was so powerful. She loves you so much,”

“I know I sound like a presumptuous arse, but I do believe she is equally in love with you, darling. She threatened me before we got in the car. Apparently we are staying with her for Easter.” He shrugged absently. Elle gasped, but couldn’t help the grin that formed on her lips. “It should be fun.”

“So this is a thing,” Elle mumbled through the silent room. The sound of wood burning behind her was a comfort. It filled in the gaps during their awkward interludes sometimes. They were few and far between. Her gaze drifted to Tom, expecting a response. Instead he looked at her oddly

“That has only been confirmed to you today?”

The fear and anxiety he’d felt months ago about where they stood resurfaced. In the theater on his birthday he’d felt at peace, thinking that someday he would marry Elle and live in wild, domestic bliss with her for all of eternity. Hearing her say things like that, even though they were born from her ludicrous insecurities, brought a sick feeling to his stomach, and once again his stance wavered. 

“…Well we’re officially living together now,”

“What is your definition of a thing, just so that I can be clear or where I stand,”

She huffed impatiently and threw back the rest of her tea wishing it had been alcohol. Tom thrusted his chin forward expectantly, waiting for her to answer him. “It’s not like that Tom, and you know it…. I just never imagined this. You don’t get it because you don’t live inside of my head. I never expected you. You of all of the people in England. I saw you and I was shit wrecked.”

His brow furrowed in confusion.

“I can’t tell whether or not that is an insult or a compliment.”

She shrugged.

“I didn’t expect to find someone so young. I thought all of my daddy issues would send me straight into the arms of some geezer who always took care of everything. I never expected to build a life with someone. I am building a life with you… we want children, and a home, and all of that gushy stuff…. not that I am cooking,” she stopped to clarify, “it’s weird, Tom. It’s weird to know that both of our slates are clean, and we both burn for the same things.”

Tom’s shoulders slumped as if fifty pounds of weight had been deadlifted off of him. In Paris they’d talked a little about the future. They spoke about possibilities and probabilities. Tom had feared that she would have forgotten all of that. She was strong headed and very feminist. She had a plan in her head and an air of independence that terrified him. 

“Oh fuck,” he exasperated, “come here… you don’t get to say those things sitting alone,”

Before Elle had the chance to move, long arms reached out and swooped her up and into his lips as he pressed his lips hard against hers, and then when her eyes opened, after swooning so badly, she noted how wildly his eyes shined. Her heart felt warm. Tom was a sap, but he belonged to her. She realized that after that conversation. As much as it was dramatized that women belonged to men, in this case, it was quite the opposite.

“What is it about that makes you so happy?”

“Children,” he responded, “when you talk about children everything becomes real.”

“You want to have kids with me for sure?”

“Oh, for sure,” Tom replied, his chest tightening. He was so odd to her. It was unusual for someone to be so open about their desire to start a family. Tom felt so secure with her, though, and like he prompted her to be, he was very forthcoming with his most precious desires to start a family with her. “I don’t mean to scare you, my darling. Naturally I am not asking you to have babies now… I just want to make it clear that I truly desire a future with you. One that is full.”

“Now you are scaring me, Tom. Plural?” 

“Only if you want. But seeing as my sisters were my best friends, I would recommend plural.” His tone was full of elation.

“Boy or girl?” she asked helplessly. Tom grinned down.

“Both.”

“You’re insufferable.” She pecked his chin, “I love you.”

“Mm. Me too.” He rubbed her shoulders and dipped his lips low to her ear, “You are very loved. Do you understand me, Elle? You will always be very loved.”

___________________________________________________

 

They existed in domesticated bliss for the next two months. Easter came and they spent it over the weekend in Suffolk where Elle met the entire Hiddles clan, including Sarah, who Elle took deep interest in. She was a journalist with hopes to take a sabbatical to India soon. Her power of speech was something Elle had never seen before. Older than Tom, she was the bossiest of the three children. Emma, 17, was a very intelligent and forthcoming teenager. Elle decided that she liked her the moment they sat on the floor of her bedroom and went through tons of high street makeup, and talked about girly things for what seemed to be hours. Tom finally rescued her calling for dinner. 

Diana was the same, loving soul she’d been when she’d first met her. Elle was anxious to see whether or not she took qualms with her and Tom’s living arrangements, but the tiny blip seemed to be exonerated by her free spirit. It was a relief that she was not some devout religious yuppie. Elle would have loathed that. Instead, she just asked for them to take their time loving each other. One night, after both Sarah and Emma had retired, the three of them sat around and drank wine together, chatting about life. 

“…Don’t rush anything. Live in this moment, my darlings. Dance, prance, be loony. You’ll never be so happy, and beautiful.”

Tom made love to her tonight in his old childhood bed. It was silent, the terror of being found out being both a turn on and deep-seated fear within each. Elle clung to his hips, and dug her nails into his back where his kidneys were. The words from Diana had moved each of them, and celibacy after sharing a bed for such a time seemed ridiculous at this point. Tom’s room was stashed away from the sleeping women upstairs. He called it his man cave, and said it was a gift when his parents became divorced. He was boarded at Eton during the school year, but during the summer when he came home, he lived in the private room off the kitchen. 

“Oh fuck,” Tom groaned as he finally released, “I love you,”

Coming back from Suffolk they felt more like a steady, everyday couple. They both worked, Tom took a job with a local theater, and Elle still did her thing at both the library along with freelance work doing set design that kept her busy. Her flat became their flat, and each took turns with domesticated chores, though Tom never expected Elle to cook. In August, the freezing weather returned, and they had officially been in love for one year. 

Elle thought back to a year ago in the Cambridge library, and how she was so thankful that Tom had been gallant enough to help her out reshelving books. If he hadn’t approached her, she would have never felt this way. She gathered by how tightly he held her at night that he felt quite the same way.

Recently he’d taken little T.V. jobs here and there to be able to pay for RADA. He still hadn’t told his family that he was going to pursue acting full time yet. Elle supported him wholeheartedly. It was an honor to get an acceptance into such a fine school, and she had a deep desire for him to succeed. It was part of what made their relationship work as well as it did. Elle was Tom’s anchor, and Tom was Elle’s support. 

All of his jobs were conveniently close to home. The worst one yet had taken him out to London, but that wasn’t even very bad considering what it could have been. He came home at night absolutely exhausted, but completely happy. He was already beginning to get recognition in the industry. He was amiable to work with, and always a ball of energy. Lately his schedule had him a little rung out. He got up at four in the morning for a five-mile run, and then showered, and got ready to pick up at six. Some morning Elle would get up with him to see him off, but other mornings she was equally tired from work and couldn’t manage the strength. 

In honor of their anniversary, both had decided to take the night off. Tom filming was done during the day, so it wasn’t too much of a problem. Elle had to do some very persistent convincing, but managed an evening off. They’d planned to have dinner and go dancing afterwards. Tom loved dancing. It was also an opportunity to be more social. For the past few months they’d been wrapped up in a bubble only nurturing each other needs, and not really paying any attention to the outside world. Every once in a while they would have drinks with some of Tom’s friends, but ever since Othello, Elle didn’t really speak with Ivonna any more. Sarah had become a close friend to her, though. They often had tea in the village, or took Emma out shopping to relieve Diana for the afternoon. Tom was so busy that he missed out on the trips often, but he was happy to know that Elle was hitting it off so well with his family.

They only person she’d yet to meet was his dad. Tom’s father, much like Elle’s, was very demanding and haughty in his expectations. Naturally Elle was taking all of these bits and pieces from Tom. She really couldn’t form an opinion of her own, but that still didn’t stop her from disliking him. Her father had been exactly the same in his unreasonable expectations of her, and it had driven her to quit law school and evacuate the country. 

Now that RADA deadlines were coming close, Elle had been encouraging Tom to tell Diana. It was time, she’d said. Diana was very much supportive of Tom’s creative passions. She’d nurtured them when he was younger and in a way, introduced them. Elle reminded him of this some nights in bed when they spoke about how scary of a prospect it was. 

‘It’ll be ok, Tom.’

Tom arrived home before Elle on the night of the anniversary and took the time to shower and shave carefully. He dressed semi-formal, and felt so many nervous jitters about that night. It felt like the night he’d asked her to be his girlfriend all over again. That night he’d been terrified. Tonight his hand trembled as he slicked some gel through his errant curls, and waited for her.   
He’d searched for the perfect gift for nearly two months. They’d agreed no gifts, but he needed to give her something. This was a milestone in their relationship. She’d put up with a lot of his shitty scheduling, and bad moods when coming home from a long day. She deserved a token of his love and devotion to her. Tom had even enlisted the help of Sarah, since she and Elle got on so well. The issue was that Elle was not very materialistic. She confessed to him that she hated anything to do with 'having' because “the whole fucking world” was always so focused on having. He insisted that she had him, and she’d scoffed that was different.

Still, he found the perfect little trinket for her. It was not worth very much, but it’s meaning was so overpowering that he bought it straight away when he caught sight of it. He was sure that she’d love it, anyway. That night he was excited to make love to her. It had been a while since they had been intimate because scheduling was so erratic. He needed to tough it out, though, because if his audition to RADA was accepted, they would expect a down payment straight away. He hated that their love life had been halted, and some nights he came home after thinking about sex all day, but was too tired, and too noble to wake Elle from sleep. Instead he’d hold her tight so that she would know that he was still crazily in love with her. 

It was frustrating, too. In the beginning they were tepid lovers. Both were young and not entirely experienced. It had always felt amazing, but as they grew more bold with each other, their sexual life became more of a learning institute, where trying new things was encouraged and rewarded. Tom was so grateful that Elle was so receptive and open to her sexuality. He couldn’t imagine that component missing from their relationship. Everything was perfect.

The locks slid out of place and she came through the door in her tights and skirt looking optimistic and dimply. Throwing her keys and coat on the side table, she glanced up at him, ignoring the post, and her teeth beamed through, clearly happy to see him.

“One year,” she said. They’d not had the opportunity to see each other that morning. Tom had snuck out particularly early in order to get in all of the work that he possibly could. He’d left a note on his pillow that said,

‘One year.’

“Are you happy?” Tom asked once he’d crossed over the tiny flat and brought her into his arms. His face was turned down, accommodating her tiny stature, the tip of his nose brushing against her forehead. 

“Mm, yes. Monumentally.” 

“Good,” he brushed his lips over hers softly. “I love you.”

“Ditto, Tom.”

He laughed softly.

“I have something for you,” 

Her immediate response was a gruff of irritation. They’d promised no gifts. Then the annoyance washed away as she realized that she was a hypocrite for being angry, because she got him something as well. 

“Don’t scoff at me,” he warned, his rich English accent making her swoon, “You’re my girlfriend and I will buy you things whenever I damn well please.” There was no contempt in his voice, only playfulness. She grinned as he dug in his pocked and asked her to shut her eyes. Once he was sure she had them shut, he fumbled with the small jewelers box, and withdrew the necklace he’d found for her. Elle took a sharp breath as she felt the cool metal around her neck, and then when he said open, she glanced down at the dreamy little gift. 

“Oh.”

He swallowed as she inspected the small golden birdcage, empty, of course. 

“Some birds aren’t meant to be caged,” Tom’s voice was soft as it caressed her, and she felt her stomach tighten and her heart sting. All of the stress and sacrifice they’d both been through as of late became present, and tears welled in her eyes knowing that Tom still knew her completely and utterly. It was the most thoughtful gift she’d ever received. 

“This is beautiful,” she cried, trying to quickly wipe her tears away. Strong hands caught her wrists and stopped her, silencing anything further with his lips on top of her own, making her forget her own name. She was his bird. “I love you,” rang soft against her mouth, as he cradled her gently, stroking her silky hair, praying to god that they would grow old together.

“I don't thank you enough... thank you for letting me love you, little one... papillon,"

They dined and danced, and then came home and made love to Tom’s iPod, Elle’s soft voice crooning him along, saying sexy things that he found positively devilish. Yes, he would be sure that there would be not stopping anytime soon…  
______________________________________________________________

 

The next Thursday they had tea scheduled with Diana and it was their plan to drop the ball. Tom was going away on filming location for a small T.V. series and he needed to be accounted for. It was one thing when he was in London doing work, but right with the possibility of leaving the country, it was important to Elle that she had Tom’s family’s support as he was away. He knew that despite all of her independence in the beginning of their relationship, it had been very easy for her to grow used to having someone to look after her. Suddenly, the thought of Tom being away made the country seem a lot larger and scarier.

“It’s going to be ok, you big scaredy cat,” Elle said as they drove to where his mother and Emma lived. She offered to drive that day so Tom wouldn’t wreck the car with his frazzled nerves. “Hey…” she caught his hand, and squeezed. “I love you.”

He said nothing in return, instead, he felt lingering feelings of resolution from within burning. Elle loved him and that meant he could do anything. For the rest of the ride he stared out the window and imagined the day he would be rich enough to buy her the biggest diamond he could afford. Every so often his mouth would twitch in amusement as she sang along to the radio, and bumped his shoulder in dedication. Yes, the biggest one, indeed.

When they arrived at Diana’s flat, she greeted them with proper kisses and fierce hugs. Elle allowed herself to be busied with making tea and preparing little cakes, and activity that made Tom snicker. She loathed domesticated activities. She glared at him, and poked her tongue out as he went with his sister into the sitting room to see a project for school she was working on.

“He’s somber today,” Diana murmured softly. Elle nodded her head. “What is it my darling?”

“I think Tom should tell you,” she replied, turning to meet the woman’s gaze.

“Are you—“ she trailed off and Elle’s eyes widened in horror, all color draining from her face.

“No!”

“Oh.”

There appeared to be an immense disappointment in Diana’s eyes. Elle quickly looked down at her belly. Did she appear larger? Her cheeks flamed red, and when Tom popped his head in the kitchen, a full-fledged grin on his face in contrast with his previous frown, he noted the difference in his girlfriend.

“Darling?”

“Cookie?” she asked brightly, trying not to give away her embarrassment despite Diana’s small chuckle. He took it from her with a tentative look, and then pressed an affectionate kiss on her brow. The stiffness of her body confirmed that she was uncomfortable about something, and Tom sprung into action. 

“Elle, baby, I think Em wants to show you her project,”

With a swift look of gratitude, Elle took off like a bandit for Tom to finish the task. 

“What have you said to scare away my liberal girlfriend?” Tom chuckled.

“I asked her if she was pregnant.” Diana announced. Tom nearly spit the contents in his mouth out, a loud cough making his lungs sear in pain. His blue eyes bulged large and his mouth smiled. “You looked nervous, darling. What else would it have been?”

“Mum! Elle is not pregnant. We are very careful about that stuff. Holy fuck,”

“Language,” his mouth chided softly. He discarded the remainder of the biscuit and ran a hand through his hair. His breathing patterns changed and he felt an intense rush of adrenaline inside. He popped his head through the kitchen window to see if he could catch a glimpse of Elle from where he stood and all he could see was Emma’s back. 

“That isn’t what we’re on about, but I do appreciate the spook you’ve probably given her.”

“Why is it such a bad thing, Thomas?”

“Elle is young, mum. So am I. We are not exactly ready to start having kids.”

“But you do want children, don’t you my darling?”

His expression softened.

“We’ve talked about it, yes.”

Diana looked relieved.

“I would prefer you marry her before any of that begins.”

Tom chocked again, nearly dropping the boiling water he was carrying over.

“Mum!” Tom’s face turned bright red as it tended to do, “Why are you suddenly so curious? I dated Lila for two bloody years and you never once asked me about kids or marriage,” he made it a point to keep his voice down very low.

“You never looked at her the way you look at Elle… and I couldn’t ever see Lila wearing gran’s ring.”

“Gran’s ring,” Tom repeated almost robotically. Just this morning he’d been daydreaming about sliding a massive ring on Elle’s pretty little finger, and postponing any type of proposal until he could afford such a luxury. He hadn’t remembered Gran’s ring.

Gran’s ring. 

“Naturally it should belong to your future wife. Gran would have wanted that.”

Tom pulled out a seat at the table, his head spinning. He sat down, and rubbed his temples that ached. His thoughts on marriage had always been so fleeting. He hadn’t had the opportunity to sit and consider it for a decent period. Was it appropriate? They’d only been dating just over a year. It was very soon. Elle was so strong and opinionated, too. He could just see the look on her face if she was cross over the idea. Surely he’d die right then and there. He could still remember they way she’d laughed at him when he asked her to be his girlfriend. Would she laugh in his face?  
Suddenly he felt familiar warm lips against his temple and smelled his mother’s perfume that had always comforted him growing up. His heart was pumping fast in his chest as opportunity presented itself to him. 

“Darling, she’s the one.”

Suddenly pursuing acting full time didn’t seem like such news, not when he had such a fierce desire to marry Elle and have her forever. Why so soon? He pleaded for answers within himself to figure out where this curious longing came from. He’d thought on it many nights, lying with Elle close by. He imagined what it would be like to grow old with her. He knew that he wanted to marry her, but would asking so soon jinx his chance at a yes? She was so spirited and independent. It had taken all of her strength to allow him to do certain things for her. He knew that a part of her fought his affection still. She was still working on her relationships and trying to deal with inner demons. Why on earth would she say yes if those things still plagued her mind?

Because she loves you, you fool! Tom chided himself, rubbing his temples again. With all of the time they’d spent apart recently, perhaps marriage would ensure that they belonged to one another and would force them through the difficult patches that ended his and Lila’s relationship. 

“How long did you and Da wait before marrying?”

“Not long, darling, but times were different. I was not as passionate as Elle. She will always be free in a way, Tom. No ring will ever tame or domesticate her.”

“Thank god for that,” he murmured, looking back out the window and seeing her head of brown hair swaying as she tried to follow Emma’s rapid British slang.

“There are many parts of your relationship that you never reached with Lila. Lila hadn’t made the sacrifices that Elle has, Tom.”

“What are those?”

“Her undying support of your dreams!” she chided. “I know how hard she works. Whenever I see her she’d got dark circles under her eyes from working so bloody hard. It’s for you.”

“Mum, there is something we should probably talk about…”

“Well I know it isn’t marriage or a baby, so go on then,” Diana tentatively took the seat next to her son at the table and watched as his nerves got the best of him. 

“Mum… I’ve decided that I am no going to look for any work pertaining to my degree… I’m applying to RADA.”

Silence.

“In fact, I’ve been doing a lot of television work in order to pay my dues there. It’s something I want desperately. I only read the classics to make you and Da proud. My heart was never there.”

Diana’s face contorted painfully at her son’s emotional admission and she reached out a hand to caress his. 

“My darling, your father and I would be proud of you no matter your occupation or ambition! Please don’t think so foolishly. You know that I fully support your career in drama. You so easily forget my beginnings.”

Diana worked as a stage manager for the better part of her life in London. She’d introduced Tom to theater and had nurtured his love for the craft from a very young age. He should have kept such details in mind to spare him the anxiety that had perpetually tormented him all week long as soon as he’d told Elle he was taking the plunge.

“So you are perfectly fine with your son being a starving artist?”

“No, of course not. You have a responsibility to that woman in there. You must keep her well, because she deserves that. If acting gets in the way of existing, then you have to be a man about it, Thomas.”

“Of course. Naturally Elle comes first.” He told his mother quickly. His eyes softened with contentment, “She has been so great, mum. She supports me fully and encourages me. Imagine that. I don’t feel like a hopeful fool when I share my dreams with her.”

“She is a dream, Tom.”

“Then you think I should marry her,”

“I think you’ve already thought on it, my love. Listen, darling. You’ve got a rough road ahead. I have spent many days in the business watching young people struggle to maintain relationships and sort their priorities out straight. Elle should always be at the top of your priorities… not matter how glittered your vision becomes.”

He frowned.

“I never want my vision to become glittered.”

She laughed,

“It happens before you can even realize it.”

“Now is not our time. We’ll burn out badly… but I am not afraid of losing her. She wants to have babies with me, mum… little ones that we’ve created. We’ve talked about future plans and she is on board.”

“I love her.”

“I do too.” He stood and Diana followed. He enfolded the small woman in his arms and held tightly. “Thank you for understanding…. Thank you for sending me to Cambridge… I would have never even met Elle if I hadn’t gone.”

“Everything happens for a reason, my love. One day I hope that you will experience the joy that you sisters and you bring to me. Now then, let us have a spot of tea and talk more about this television that you’ve been doing.”

Tea was hostile. Both Tom and Elle alike had been assaulted with Diana’s brash ways and felt nerves. Elle didn’t even seem to notice that Tom had already spilled the beans about RADA. She only remembered when they were driving back home, and decided to stop for a proper meal at a local restaurant. 

“…So she is ok with it?” Elle asked again, ripping a piece of bread in half. She hadn’t touched a single thing at his mum’s house, too frightened that Diana would take that as a sign that she was pregnant. 

“She seemed more interested in knowing when I was going to get you pregnant,” he sighed, rubbing his nose, “I mean, where they fuck did that come from?”

“Where did it, Tom?” her eyes narrowed hard on her man. His eyes widened.

“Don’t look at me!” he hissed, “I’ve mentioned nothing to her.”

Elle huffed angrily, and folded her arms across her chest.

“That was fucking humiliating.”

“She grilled me about marrying you. Grilled me, Elle. I felt as if she expected me to go out there now and drop on one knee.”

“Good luck,” she laughed, “I love you, but it is not time for us to be married…”

Tom’s face went flat with the shock of her sheer honesty. His chest tightened, and his eyes plummeted back down to his bowl of soup. Elle looked up, disturbed by his silence, and instantly regretted her quick words. 

“Tom,” she groaned, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it, Elle?”

“Tom… just a few seconds ago you were equally adverse to the idea.”

“Not adverse!”

She sighed and sank back against her seat.

“I can’t do this, Tom. I can’t constantly promise you future things just to make you happy. Why are you so insecure? Can’t you just accept the fact that we are starting a life together and not try and put a lean on every fucking thing? I feel so trapped when you force me to commit to these things. When am I going to be enough?”

Tom hadn’t expected that. 

“Elle,” he spoke softly, realizing this was escalating quickly. “You will never be able to know just how much you mean to me.”

“I just don’t understand how we can be on the same page one moment and then the next your up and I’m down,”

He could never stand to see her frown.

“How can you know what page we’re on about marriage? We never talk about it, do we?”

“Why would we? Is this normal for England? We just don’t do this kinda thing in America.”

“Baby, we are setting our own rules, remember?”

She glanced up at him, and a small frown set upon her face shifted back into a grin. 

“So one of these days I’ll be Elizabeth Hiddleston?” 

A wide smile stretched across Tom’s face.

“It’s a promise. And we’ll have loads of sex and create little Hiddleston’s.”

“Little Hiddles.”

He laughed.

Yes, everything was going to be ok.


	8. Bean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My timeline needs a little sorting out. This is all pre-written stuff, and I haven't had a chance to sort through it. Hopefully you will all forgive the shortcomings there and enjoy the rest! Xx.

They celebrated Christmas with Diana that year instead of another soiree in Paris. They exchanged simple gifts that were necessities, and later in the evening, Tom held her close and explained how grateful he was for the support that she always showed him. He promised that one day everything would be so much better, and Elle shushed him, saying that she was in love with their love, even as poor young lovers.

Tom was over the moon when he received early acceptance into RADA. He began working twice as hard, and being absent from home often. He filmed on location during the weeks, and came back to Elle on weekends, frantically making love to her in their tiny flat, trying to convey just how much he loved and missed her. 

The following September, Elle became violently ill again. Tom was detained in Dublin where he was filming a small movie, and Sarah took her to the hospital. Tom had called in and asked her to stay with Elle while she was so ill. 

“It can’t be true,” Elle’s small voice came, as she sat in a small room inside of the local emergency infirmary. Sarah sat next to her, and held her hand tightly. “I can’t be.”

“It would explain your absent cycles,” the nurse on call told Elle sympathetically. Elle felt her eyes burning a hole into her hand. She’d joked with Sarah that the woman might have thought them lesbians. Now it was safe to say that they were not.

“And you’re sure?”

“The blood we ran confirmed it. You’re pregnant.”

She was sick then. 

Sarah drove them back to Elle’s apartment and didn’t talk until they entered the flat.

“It’s going to be ok, Elle.”

“Tom is going to hate me,” She said numbly. “I’ve ruined everything, Sarah.”

“Elle!” she gasped unevenly, “How could you say that? Tom loves you! He’s said before that he’s wanted children with you.”

“He’s just taking off!” she cried, her voice haggard. “He’s making his name and I’ve ruined everything!”

Promptly, Sarah held her sister tightly and rubbed her back.

“Oh no… you’re number one, darling. You have always been number one to Tom”

Sarah slept next to Elle that night as she cried pitifully, clutching her tummy where a new life was brewing as a result of her and Tom’s stupidity. They used condoms and she was taking contraception. Since their conversation long months beforehand about children, Tom had seemed to extra cautious as the possibility of an accidental pregnancy became very real. He realized that he had a lot riding on the future and having children at the present moment would complicate things even more than they were. 

Now they were going to have a baby.

The next morning Elle woke to sun spilling on her face. A sick feeling in her stomach confirmed that her flu had been more than that and without any sound, she ran to the toilet and heaved up bile from her tummy, praying that she was living in a nightmare instead of existing in reality. 

Sarah found her way to the bathroom and stood at the doorframe watching her sister clutching the bowl of the toilet helplessly. She didn’t know what to say to her, unaware of how she would react. She’d sobbed hard the previous night. Sarah had considered calling in Diana for reinforcement, but apart of her decided that might make things worse. Tom needed to be the next person to know. In fact, she felt a little guilty knowing this information before her brother. 

“Darling, I’ve made tea… the doctor said you should have some to calm your stomach.”

“Fuck,” she croaked. “I feel like hell.”

“That’s probably because you trekked through hell last night… Would you like to have a bath or tea? I could bring you tea in your bath,”

She glanced up and smiled weakly.

“I love you, Sarah. Thanks… I think I will shower and then come out for tea… Tom should be home very soon.”

“Alright darling. Let me know if you need help,”

Sarah shut the door quietly leaving Elle still seated at the toilet’s front. It took her long moments before she could force herself to stand and turn the faucets on. It crossed her mind whether or not her child had been conceived in the shower where she and Tom spent countless mornings fucking in earnest. Everything had been so hysterical these days between the both of them. They were both so needy and it felt wonderful. She could remember her legs buckling underneath her one morning as Tom took her over the edge. They laughed about it later.

What if the tiny baby had been a result of that? 

Her heart felt fast inside of her chest and she had to hold the wall, her tears renewing and becoming violent all over again. How was she going to tell Tom? How was she could to tell him she she’d just ruined his chance of happiness?

She stayed quarantined inside of the shower for the next half and hour, only acknowledging the knocks that came from Sarah. She washed her hair, and her body, gliding her soapy hand along her stomach, wondering if her baby knew her yet. Since the news came out, she’d been so worried about Tom she hadn’t had the chance to think about the tiny kidney bean that was growing inside of her. She would be one with that child for the next nine months of her life. The baby would know her voice and her touch. The thought made her feel some kind of way that was too difficult to describe. 

Little one.

She and Tom had spent many nights thinking up a dream baby. Curly blond hair with dimples. Blue eyes and pale skin. A smart British accent, with a rebellious streak of American. A Hiddleston who loved art, and was empowered by the written word. Elle had suggested William for a boy, and Tom had dream up Nora for a girl.

Would he be happy?

How could he be happy? His career was finally breaking through. He was about to embark on an endeavor he never dreamed possible. He wasn’t ready to give all of that up for a little carbon copy of their love. 

Elle scratched her eyes furiously and whimpered, sinking down in the shower, letting the water flow on her body as she clutched her stomach tightly. What would happen to them? Would he want to stay? Many men wouldn’t want to stay after this. What if he thought she was manipulating the situation? Her heart ached thinking that Tom could possibly believe something like that. They trusted each other so infinitely. 

Maybe things would be ok.

She had tea and nibbled on toast and jam that Sarah made. She worked a bit, and finally, when the door opened and Tom walked through, Sarah swiftly kissed her brother's cheek, and left without further words or being present for the drama that would ensue. 

He was tired, she could tell.

“What’s with her?” were his first words. He lugged his backpack with him, slinging it on the chair next to where she sat on the sofa, and then plopped down, rubbing his eyes. “I’m fucking knackered. I just want to sleep the entire afternoon away.” He glanced at her and then his eyes widened as he remembered, “Oh, my darling, how do you feel? I’d forgotten for a moment that you’ve been ill. Come here, sweetheart,” 

Without warning, he pulled her up out of thin air, and sat her in his lap making her nerves even more frayed that before. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat firmly. It was soothing to her with it’s gentle, ‘thunk, thunk.’ 

“I’m ok… no flu,”

“That’s a relief.” He mumbled, his chin tipped up and his eyes sagging shut. “It feels so bloody good to hold you.”

Instinctively, her arms tightened around his body. Touché, she thought. 

“Tom,” she began, her voice practically running out of breath before she finished the syllable. “We need to talk.”

Tom tentatively pulled back and looked at his lover. He noted the red rims around her eyes, and the seriousness in her tone. Being together for almost two years had taught them things about each other and kept them in tuned with little signals. In this instance he knew something was wrong based on her body language. Elle was usually a sloppy lounger. She preferred to lay all over him, legs twisted in awkward but comfortable positions. Today she was rigid and very formal in her movements. 

He straightened up, his mood becoming somber as he realized that she needed to say whatever it was on her mind. He realized his heart was beating quickly in his chest and that he was still afraid of everything falling to pieces.

“Promise me that you’ll love me always, Tom.”

He brow wrinkled in confusion at her soft request. His throat narrowed tightly and he reached out to cup her face. 

“Darling, you know I will… so what is it?”

For long moments she tried to figure out what to say. She tried to avoid his blue gaze and wondering if the little bean would have a matching set. Finally, like cowardice, she shut her eyes and took hold of his hand, placing it over her belly. For a moment he was confused, then suddenly, his fingers splayed and tightened as realization crept in and stole his breath away.

For a long moment her eyes remained tightly shut, refusing to look at the disappointment in his eyes as he watched all of his dreams flush away.

“I can go,” she offered frantically, “We can pretend we never met and I can do this myself—“

“Elle,” he said testily, “shut up. Don’t ever say that again. Do you understand me? Never again.” His voice was deadly silently and made her feel sick. “How dare you, Elle? How dare you make such ugly presumptions about my character?”

Her eyes flew open in shock. He was angry. Her heart began to beat fast as his hand stayed firmly in place. 

“Tom… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How the fuck did you mean it?”

“Stop! Don’t curse at me!” she yelled, tearing away from him. “I have spent the past fifteen hours worried sick about how you’re reacting and now you’re cursing. Why was I worried?” she bit sarcastically. “I’m scared, Tom! I feel like I’ve just ruined your entire life.” Her face crumpled horribly, “all of your dreams are coming true and now I have to be the grim reaper and tell you that we’re having a baby! Oh god!” she cried, her breath coming fast in erratic paces. She huddled herself into a ball and dropped to the floor. She looked crazed and Tom understood how terrified she must have been with all of the drama running through her head. “We’re not ready,” she cried rocking herself back and forth, “we’re not ready…”

“Elle, Elle… baby…. Shh.” He immediately slid to his knees from the couch, coming to her with as much understanding and affection that existed in his body. “Oh my darling. My little, precious darling. Please don’t cry,”

But it was far too late for that. Tear tracks stained her cheeks and began to saturate his t-shirt. He comforted her like he had on the night she’d met Diana. He held her tightly, his own fears simmering, but knowing very well he needed to be strong for her right then. 

“I’m scared, too.” He whispered, his voice rough, “I don’t have a single idea how to be a father. Fuck dreams, Elle. You’re my dream. When will you realize that?” he cried with her, “We made a baby. Oh god,” he sobbed into her neck, audibly like he’d never before. Her body quaked at the sound of his emotion as his hands found her stomach once more. “Oh fuck… I’m so happy I don’t know how to properly—oh fuck.”

Some day, years down the line, Elle and Tom would be able to tell their little bean that when his or her daddy discovered that Mummy was pregnant, his only coherent thought was,

'Oh fuck,'

Small giggles escaped her, and the first beam of happiness rained in. Tom quickly peeled her shirt up and sank lower, pressing his ear to her abdomen, the rim so cool that it made her shiver. He gently pushed her to the floor, and when she was stretched out, her breathing still uneven as tiny cries still escaped, he laid his face against her stomach and remained there.

“I—Elle, I am not sure what I can say in this moment. Can we just lay here for a while? So that I can find my words?”

A hand through his blond curls confirmed that allowance, and for the next hour, they laid still, both deep in their own thoughts. Tom’s eyes closed, and he started to dream. His vision was clouded with soft pastels, imagining Elle’s swollen belly, choosing paint for a nursery. He thought about soft tufts of newborn hair, cradling the bundle in his arms, murmuring, trying to match the coos from his tiny child.

A baby. The sweetest future with Elle had been achieved and now they were expecting a baby; a tiny being that would be a testament of all of the love they’d given one another. 

Tom started to cry then, his tears warm as they wet Elle’s belly. She was immobile, the only proof of her current attentiveness being the comforting strokes that she raked through Tom’s hair, her eyes remaining dry as he took his time. He spent long minutes, heaving out every bit of emotion in his body. Angry that Elle was so scared of what his reaction would be, worried that he would be like his own dad, puzzled that they’d gotten pregnant, but oh so fantastically thrilled that a life had been created by the both of them. 

After a while he turned, shift his eyes from her face back towards her belly.

“So come with me where dreams are born and time is never planned. Just think of happy things and your heart will have wings in Never Never Land,” his lips curved into a soft smile, “You were always my dream, little baby and I can’t wait to hold you.”

Elle’s eyes closed, feeling sudden exhaustion. Tom continued to talk to bean, his tone mystical and excited. He recited Shakespeare and asked the baby questions. Elle listened, enjoying the sound of his voice. She lost count of how many memories she wanted to keep in those few minutes, and after a while, she was out, having fallen asleep swiftly, leaving Tom’s wonderment keeping him wide awake.

She woke again and she was nestled into the sofa wrapped in a blanket. She couldn’t see Tom, but she could hear him and smell evidence of his presence. Since they’d begun living together Tom had taken up the job as head chef. He had no qualms with Elle’s distaste for the kitchen, and if he was honest, he secretly loved her refusal to conform to domestic lifestyle. His new position had given him the chance to try different things and he’d become quite good.

“Tom?” she asked, her voice groggy. She blinked her eyes a few times, trying to gain footing. She sat up and stretched lazily, feeling better rested than she had in the last few weeks. 

“In here, darling,” he called from the kitchen. Yes, that was the background noise. She stood and found her lanky boyfriend at the stove making a fry up. It was his specialty. He glanced up and smiled at her. There was so much warmth in his face. “Sarah and I chatted while you were napping. She says you’ve been sick in the mornings… I figured you might like something in your tummy.”

“Bean might like it,”

“Bean?” he quizzed in shock, his eyebrows darting up, a laugh stuck in his throat. “Our little one is called bean?”

“Tom, I’m six weeks, this baby is a bean.”

“Do you think that’s why you’ve been rejecting drink lately? When went out last Friday with Sammie you thought it was going to make you sick?”

“It’s possible. I was so scared that I had done development damage. The physician says that I am in perfect health and so is the baby. The heartbeat is strong.”

“Tennis player?”

She laughed and perched herself on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. He handed her tea that he’d been brewing before she’d woken up. 

“So… you’re happy then?”

“Oh, monumentally. Everything good is happening, Elle. Bean is a bonus. I feel so fortunate and unworthy all at once.”

“What about RADA?”

“RADA isn’t going to change just because we’re having a baby. The training isn’t very long, either. I’ve only wanted a few seasons of study there. I’m not saying this is going to be easy, but certainly not impossible.”

“You think everything will work out?”

“Oh yes. We’ve got loads of support…” his baritone was strong, “I think we’ve got to move.”

“Can we afford to move?”

He nodded.

“Yes. We’re both making an adequate sum. I had been thinking about moving closer to London anyway. It would be easier on both of us because of the commute.”

Elle had recently started working more at the Shakespeare Theater and had been making very good money. She and Tom both had a joint savings account that was for emergency purposes. Tom’s RADA fund was different. They’d tossed around the idea of finding a bigger place a few times, but now that they were becoming a trio, it would be necessary. 

“Naturally we need a nursery.”

“Tom…. How are we going to tell your mother?” she asked suddenly, her conscious jolting away after all of the dreamy talk of nurseries and baby stuff. Tom sighed, and scratched the back of his head.

“With words, preferably. She’ll be frighteningly happy. Don’t you remember last year when she was practically shoving us towards an alter?”

Elle’s heart dropped uncomfortably and she took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to get married just because we’re having a baby, Tom. We promised that we’d take time, right? No jumping. Well this one threw us for a loop, but when we get married it needs to be in our own time.”

He nodded slowly; privately unsure of how his mother would react to that, but still respecting and agreeing with Elle’s wishes. They hadn’t talked about this sort of thing since the last massive fight they’d had after that evening. Tom had needed some reassurance that they were in it to win it. Elle told him that children and a marriage didn’t make things real; love did. Finally he began to see the error of his ways and laid the issue to rest.

“We can wait to tell mum, if you’d like. I’d like this to be ours for a while…” Elle glanced up at Tom, and her brown eyes softened and became warm. They were perfectly compatible as a couple, and she was still so mercilessly in love with him. 

“I’d like that.”

He plated their food, served her, and then came and sat next to her so that they might eat together. 

“I don’t want to wait too long to tell Diana, because I’m sure that she can help me with something’s… I mean, I have no clue what doctor to use, or anything about being pregnant. She’s had three kids….”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled that you need her,” Tom laughed. “I’ve always been afraid that my children wouldn’t get to meet mum.”

Elle reached out and squeezed his thigh before cutting into her meal. She noted that he gave her a little extra than usual and smirked to herself. It was already starting. They ate quietly for the most part. Every once in a while, Tom would ask her a question and she would answer it as best as she could. They agreed that after dinner they should probably do a little research and maybe head into town and buy some books. Neither of them was prepared at all. It was new, and Elle was worried that she wouldn’t know how to properly treat her body. She wanted to give the baby the best nutrients and care possible while it baked in her belly. Tom whole-heartedly agreed, and while she was busy on her laptop, he was making a playlist entitled, ‘Bean’ with different bits of classical and soothing music to play for the baby. 

They dressed warmly and drove into town together. Tom held her shoulders close to him as they walked the streets and breathed in the fresh air. However tired he’d been, it couldn’t make an appearance past his sheer happiness. Every now and then he would drop a kiss on her brow and whisper something in her ear. 

They finally made their way to the closest and most reliable bookstore they frequented. Lately they’d made it a form of a date night. They would stop at a coffee bar and order their favorites, then stroll to the bookstore and read in the corner. Sometimes they read separately, but other times Elle would listen to Tom’s voice as he read to her. 

“…Do you think the baby would like to be read to?”

“I dunno,” Elle shrugged as she leafed through one of the pre-natal books she’d read about online. The tables of contents made her legs feel like jelly. There was so much to be done in such a short amount of time. “Oh my god, Tom. I’m going to fucking faint….Look at this picture!”

Tom’s face twisted in horror as he saw the picture captioned ‘crowning’.

“Oh my god! Shut that! Shut that!” he chanted, turning away. Elle began to laugh hysterically and sip on the chocolate that Tom had bought for her before coming to the store. “Holy fuck that is disgusting!”

“Disgusting? How about painful, you ass! I’m the one who is going to go through that.”

“Good point,” he said, looking more relieved than sympathetic. Elle glared at him and then turned back towards the shelves. He was immersed in a tiny collection of Shakespeare for children, his eyes glowing as he flipped through the pages, clearly enamored. Elle was happy that Tom was such a fan of classic literature. Their baby was going to be incredibly intelligent. “I don’t know if I’m down with this, baby… look at how they dumb down the language. It robs the beauty from the piece. Bean will never learn if we read this…”

“Then don’t get it, Tom. I have a bad feeling that her first word will be ‘doth’” Elle rolled her eyes, but Tom continued to look at her curiously.

“Her?”

“I don’t know…. It feels weird referring to our baby as ‘it’ in pronouns. I thought you said you’d love a tiny little girl,”

“Oh, I would. Now that it is happening I couldn’t care less about the gender. God, I can’t wait.” 

Elle frowned, and began to open the book again to the picture, and Tom quickly caught her wrist before she could continue, with short nervous laughter. 

“Just kidding…. You stay in there and cook, bean, or your mummy will murder me.”

“The first command,”

That night as they both got ready for bed, Tom was very nervous. It was visible, too. Instead of watching her carefully like he usually would while she changed, and pranced around, he kept his eyes low and distracted. 

When Tom got back from his week work, they were insatiable. They would fuck hard and then make love into the night. They spent all of Saturday exhausting each other with sex and then Sunday recuperating and resting up for the next week when it would happen all over again. That night he kept his hands to himself. 

“Tom,” Elle sighed impatiently. She wore a pair of black panties as a last resort, trying to entice him. Now she lay on the bed waiting for him to make his move. “I’m horny.”

Tom looked at her with wide, dilated pupils, shock overwhelming him. They talked about sex very freely with each other, vocal about what they wanted and trying out new things. But Elle had never had to tell him that she was horny. He could usually tell when she was itchy and needed him to scratch her. Mostly because he always wanted sex. It brought them together in such an intimate way, and it was a bonding experience that felt incredibly good. 

“I- I don’t want to hurt anything.” He told her shyly. 

“Tom, don’t you dare start this. Sex is fine… the book says that you can either be really randy or totally put off…I am not sure if it’s too soon to tell, but I’m still equally attracted to you,”

His breath hitched. He ached for her. Spending the week away was murder. He missed her physically and emotionally. Making love was a way to reconnect, and it had always seemed like second nature until this very moment. 

“You’re sure?”

“Just kiss me,” she urged him, climbing towards him. Tom didn’t need her to ask twice, he met her half way in a tender kiss that was painfully beautiful. His hands cradled her face and her own found his chest, eyes closing in sweet ecstasy of rejoining his body.

“I love you,” he whispered, coming away, pressing kisses along her jaw. “You’ve made me complete.”

Making love with Tom that night was a touching experience. He was very careful with her body that now housed his child. She could tell in his kisses that he loved her. She could also tell that he wanted this baby as much as she did and that everything was going to be ok in the end. They were going to be parents with a baby who they loved far before they met him or her.

Tom held her when they drifted off to sleep, his hand pressed against her flat stomach, a smile on his mouth as he dreamed of the months when he would feel his child’s movements inside of Elle. He thought about the life they’d created and thought about the tiny woman he’d fallen in love with inside of a library, overwhelmed with books in her arms and a tarty attitude that swept him off of his feet. He remembered how shy she’d made him, and how he was positive that he loved her after the first night. Now two years down the line with a fierce affection that had bubbled out of control, they were becoming a family, their own little unit. 

He’d never felt such contentment before.


	9. Nora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Triggers for miscarriage! This is apart of the original plot. I apologize ahead of time.....Grab your Kleenex!

Two months later and Elle was a madwoman. They’d told Diana the month before, and after all of the weepy tears of happiness subsided, business was set in motion. Diana recommended a good doctor close to town and Elle had been going for monthly checkups ever since. She was on prenatal vitamins and her morning sickness was subsiding slowly but surely. At first the sickness had Tom severely distraught. He hated seeing her in such a state, and he was scared for bean and that she wasn’t getting the proper nutrients that she needed. He’d gone into overdrive making sure that she stayed perfectly healthy. She constantly was being fed and Tom made it a morning priority when he was home to blend together a super food smoothie for her. 

Cravings hadn’t kicked in, but being nearly four months pregnant, she had started to show a bit. Tom naturally fawned over her expanding belly. He couldn’t get enough of caressing her, and fondling her swelling breasts. Her appetite for sex had been thrown into overdrive. They spent many afternoons in bed together. Making love had become languid and lovely. Tom spent a lot of time kissing her softly with his hands pressed his large hands against her belly. It was a very sweet, romantic act that made Elle swoon and want more and more. 

They’d started to search for flats after Tom finished his series in Dublin. Elle was so relieved to have him back home. They were able to celebrate his twenty fifth birthday soundly with friends and family together and get in quality time that they’d been missing. It was there that they announced the arrival of bean, and afterward, so many people had come to speak to the future Shakespearian, that Elle had lost count. 

“She works too hard,” Diana scolded her son as they market shopped together. Elle had begged his mum to take Tom out and get him out of her hair for a while. She was absolutely exhausted. She’d worked a full week and her pregnancy was had made it harder for her to go as hard and long as she used to. Tom begged her to slow down and take it easy, but it was difficult for her to acclimate herself to that lifestyle. 

She’d promised to stay in this Saturday and rest. To ensure that she did so in peace, Diana picked Tom up and they headed out for a day of errands. Her back had been aching with the recent weight gain, and she was grouchy for no reason other than being tired. 

She slept the afternoon away and woke revitalized. After making a few work calls, and using Tom’s laptop to check her email, she pulverized some fruits and veggies and made herself a smoothie. After the smoothie, she decided a movie was in order. She and Tom rarely ever watch T.V. together. The only time they generally spent apart was when they were at work. They preferred reading or cooking. Most often their tiny flat was made into a love shack, so it felt strange to Elle as she popped in a DVD and kicked her feet up. 

She was halfway through Terms of Endearment and blubbering like fool when Tom and Diana came in and caught her. Tom was immediately distraught and nearly dropped the bags that he was carrying to come to her. 

“Elle, baby, what is it?” he asked her in a panic. She sniffed and quickly wiped her eyes. 

“Nothing! I’m just being crazy,”

Elle rarely ever cried. The last time she cried was when she’d told Tom she was carrying bean. She was very strong spirited and did not often show emotion of that kind because she considered it slightly weakening. Tom tried to culture a different attitude, but she was very stubborn.

“It’s the hormones, dear, nothing to worry about,” Diana informed the both of them as she walked into the kitchenette. Tom disregarded his mother and came to sit by Elle. He embraced her shoulders and kissed her tear stained cheek. 

“I hate seeing you cry,” he whispered, so that only she could hear him. 

“Ignore me,” she begged him weakly, a small smile on her face as she got a good look at him. “I’m crazy and pregnant.”

He nuzzled her nose with his own,

“I love it when you talk like that.” He set his hand on her expanding tummy, “how is my little one today? Hmm? Not giving mummy any trouble I hope,” 

Elle’s eye crinkled in soft amusement as he did this. It had become a ritual of his to speak to their baby everyday. She enjoyed hearing the things that he said, and felt more confidant every day that they could be decent parents. Secretly her heart burned with excitement when thinking about Tom as a father.

“When is your next appointment, darling?” Diana interrupted from the kitchen. She was putting away the groceries herself, not wanting to disrupt the moment between her son and her future grandchild. She delighted in Tom’s enthusiasm. If she and Elle had been close before, they were even more so now. She treated her like a daughter, and made her feel like one. She’d assured her that if Tom couldn’t make it, she would be more than willing to come to appointments. Elle relayed all of these wonderful things to Tom before they slept at night. His heart tenderized at her excitement, and he fell a little deeper in love in those moments. 

“Tuesday…. We should be able to find out the sex then…” Tom’s eyes lit up as she said this. It would tell them if William or Nora were on their way. They hadn’t told Diana about the names, wanting it to be a surprise. Elle could tell that it nearly killed Tom. He was like a child at Christmas with bean. He wanted to shout to the world that he was having a little baby. 

“I’m so excited,” he said. 

“Me too,” Diana chimed in. Elle laughed, her face dry at that point. Tom kissed her nose. 

“Love you to bits, my darling. How does a nice cuppa sound? I’ve brought some of those lovely chocolate biscuits you’ve been nibbling on, too.”

“Yes, please,” she said, grinning happily. As much as Elle loathed being waited on, she did, however, appreciate how Tom spoiled her with any delicacy that she could possibly dream of. Lately, she was obsessed with cookies.

“When are the both of you going to have a look at that flat?” Diana asked, searching for the kettle. Tom popped a kiss on his mother’s cheek, and relieved her of the duty,

“Go sit, mum… I’ll bring you a cup.”

Diana found Tom’s spot next to Elle on the sofa.

“Soon. We’ve both just been busy. I like it. Tom’s been before, too. He says that there is a fireplace.”

“You’ll have to be careful with a fireplace,” the older woman warned, “this one had a fascination with the warmth when he was little,” 

Tom’s cheeks tinged pink.

“We’ll protect her,” Elle laughed, caressing her bump. Elle stilled referred to bean as a she because she felt like a she. Tom called her his petite cherie at night, and would often sing her little French lullabies. He was sold on female bean, too, but didn’t yet dare to call her Nora.

“I’m glad you’ll be closer. I’d like to be able to babysit my grandchild as often as needed.”

“You’ll be the first person we call,” Elle reassured, with a soft smile for her mother. Diana’s eyes, the same as Tom’s, were light and beautiful. They sent warmth flowing through her. Elle felt confident in her ability to be a good mother to bean because she had a great example in Diana. All of her children fiercely loved her, and she was a sense of strength and support. 

Diana ate dinner with them and then left that night. As Tom shut the door after wishing her goodnight, Elle finished drying the last few dishes. Tom slacked against the door a bit, and Elle grinned. Her mission was accomplished. Tom was exhausted from spending the day with his mother. 

“Darling, you shouldn’t be doing that,” he murmured softly, coming and dropping his hands on her shoulders. She smirked and continued to wash, trying to not feel the blissful distraction of his ministrations. He massaged deeply, causing a lone whimper to belt through her mouth before she could stop it. She felt no embarrassment. At this point in their relationship, Tom knew her body, and knew exactly how to touch her. 

“Tom, you’re dating a militant feminist. Just because I’m pregnant does not mean I can’t do chores.”

He huffed indignantly.

“I think we’ve gone beyond the stage of dating, Elle.”

“I don’t know what to call this,”

“A partnership,” he whispered by her ear, “and soon, a family.”

That did it. Tears sprang to her eyes at the tenderness of his words and the yearning in her heart for just that thing. As if it was his calling in life, Tom turned her around so that she faced him, and sank to his knees where he placed a hand on Elle’s belly, his fingers splaying as he stared. She wondered what he imagined bean would look like when he thought of her. She would have loved to take a seat in his mind for a few hours. 

“Hello, my darling girl,” he spoke gently, “I wanted to teach you about love tonight… I pray often that you know how much mummy and I love you. One day I hope that you will be loved by someone as much as I love mummy…” he began to recite a sonnet as Elle relaxed against the counter, enamored by the sight in front of her. Tom truly was invested in the conversation he was having with his unborn child. “If you’ve taken anything from this lesson, I do hope that you realize just how magnificent and perfect my love for you is, little one.” He pressed a kiss against her stomach after lifting her jumper up to expose the extended skin that he felt a little weak at knees with as he looked on. She was smooth and tender. He planted his lips just beside her belly button and closed his eyes, trying to memorize everything about this moment so he could later tell his child. 

“I love you, Tom,” she whispered, running her fingers though his hair, “and I believe in you and us, and our little baby,”

“Family,” he murmured again. 

Yes. Family. 

The day they confirmed the sex of Bean, they dropped by Diana’s to tell her that Nora was progressing nicely, and that in four short months, she’d join the party in their new London home. They signed agreements Monday beforehand, and Tom’s mother nearly fainted at all of the good news. 

‘Nora,’ she kept trying out.

‘It means honor...and light,’ Tom invited.

'Nora,' she smiled.

Over the next month, as Elle’s tummy grew, so did her appetite for Doritos and jam. She requested them all of the time, as well as take-a-ways. Tom had privately asked the doctor whether or not it was healthy for such junky foods to be consumed during pregnancy, and she subtly warned him to never raise this issue with Elle. It had terrified him into sticking to literature. 

Tom read piles of books about babies. When they found out that bean was a girl, he checked out books on how to be a father to a daughter, and different pieces on the same subject. Some nights when he couldn’t sleep he would move into the new kitchen, that was much more spacious, and sit at the island with a cup of warm milk and cinnamon and read up. He daydreamed about her. Even when he started to take his RADA classes, he was always distracted by thoughts of his precious girl Nora. 

Naturally that didn’t stop his performance or work. He was casted for Romeo and Juliet straight away, which paid a nice sum. During the runs of the play he was very busy. One of his favorite directors has casted him, and Tom saw it as his ticket into the industry that he so desperately wanted to be a apart of.

Elle cut back on her work hours being six months pregnant made her incredibly sleepy all of the time. She took to decorating her daughter’s nursery with the gallant help of her lover. He painted the walls a soft pink and yellow, and help put together a white crib. Blankets were folded and the wardrobe was packed with beautiful little dresses and shoes. A special gift from Tom’s father surprised him each time he walked into Nora’s nursery. A small wooden rocking horse that once belonged to him and his sisters. He had it refinished and it was now ready to go for his little girl. Tom was confused by the gesture, but accepted it as a truce in their rocky relationship. 

Elle had met him once before for the purpose of introductions when he came for a pharmacology conference in the spring. He was excited for his first grandbaby and had taken nicely to Elle. Tom was very rigid with his dad. She was privately relieved when Tom reconciled with him. She wanted Nora to have a grandmother and a grandfather and that wasn’t going to happen on her behalf. 

It was April morning when Sarah and Emma came by the house to bring Elle out to the spa. She’d been feeling cruddy, and Tom said that she had been cooped up in the house for far too long. Sarah was about to leave on a sabbatical to India and Elle wanted to spend time with her good friend before she was gone. 

They arrived at spa and immediately one of the specialist commented on the beauty of all three girls. Emma flushed brightly and ran off to pick colors for her manicure while Sarah and Elle signed them in. They were due for massages and mani pedis courtesy of Diana Hiddleston, who couldn’t make it herself, as she was away in Kent at an art auction. Tom, too, was on at rehearsals for the day. He was trying to make it home as much as possible, but even some weekends his exhaustion permitted him from making the drive. He telephoned each and every night and would talk to his ‘two’ girls as long as his eyelids would remain open. Elle naturally didn’t mind. He was working so hard and climbing the latter he’d always dreamed of. 

“This feels great,” Elle mumbled next to her sisters. “My back has been aching like crazy lately.”

“You’ve put on weight,” Emma confirmed from two tables over. Sarah gasped in horror but Elle just chuckled.

“It’s ok… there’s a baby in there.”

“I’ll be back in time for her arrival,” Sarah proudly boasted. “I will swim if I bloody well have to!”

Elle laughed.

“That won’t be necessary, hopefully. One of my biggest fears is that Tom will be far when she decides to come.”

“Oh, he may be a broomhead, but he’s loads smarter than that,” Emma confirmed, switching positions, “Mum would murder him!”

“Or call the National Guard to lift him to the birthing suit.”

Elle winced at that reference and her masseuse quickly checked to make sure she was ok. She nodded faintly. She was absolutely terrified of childbirth. The picture of crowning from months ago had left her scarred. Diana also told her gruesome stories that disgusted her completely. She hadn’t even realized it until Tom asked his mother to cool it. Elle had come home in an absolute tizzy, screaming at him that she was going to have the inside of her privates stripped in order to force the baby out. He’s gotten her calm down, but warned his mother not to share with her the intimate details of her child-birthing experience. 

That was that.

“I’m bummed Diana couldn’t make it,” Elle sighed as she had her toes painted. Her belly was getting big enough to the point where she could not long paint her own nails comfortably. Tom had made the offer when he saw her frustration, but she quickly denied him the chance to help saying that it creeped her out. 

“Mum sends her apologies and hopes that we are looking fab,” Sarah recited brightly from her mobile. She was currently getting a lacquer of bright cherry polish painted on her toes. Elle hummed happily and sipped with ginger ale that had been brought to her in lieu of the champagne that Sarah and Emma sipped.

“She’s kicking,” Elle murmured quietly, not wanting to get her overly excited aunt too out of sorts. A few months back, Elle had started to feel Nora move inside of her. A few weeks later and Tom had felt her. Ever since then both Diana and Sarah had been on the hunt to feel their baby niece. 

Slowly, her hand reached out, a matching bright cherry on her nails, and she pressed on Elle’s pregnant belly, her brow confused. Elle chuckled quietly and moved her hand a few inches and then Sarah’s eyes went wide as she felt the strong kicks of Nora.

“Oh my god,” she whispered happily. The manicurist smiled on at them and Elle giggled as the thrumming finally ceased and her daughter settled again. “That was amazing. I can’t believe that she actually moves!”

This earned a loud laugh from Emma.

“Of course they move, you dolt! She’s a baby!”

Sarah scowled at her sister and the rest of the party continued to laugh carelessly…

 

________________________________________________________

 

Beep, beep, beep…

Her eyes struggled to open; to find the source of the maddening, repetitive beeping.

Beep, beep, beep…

A soft groan escaped her mouth as she fought weariness over reality. 

Beep, beep, beep…

So familiar, yet so vague, her body felt as if it had never before belonged to her and she was floating around in space looking down, trying her hardest to see, to make out the situation, but her eyes only met the cold stare of black. 

Beep, beep, beep…

“Oh god!” the horrifying, intrusive male scream pierced her ears, but did not shake the darkness that clouded around her. She fell off the ledge again, the beeping echoing in her ear...

Tom ran. He ran as fast as he had in his entire existence. They’d chosen a home close to the hospital purposely. The six miles seemed no match for his long, crazed limbs. The call echoed in his mind. 

‘Dead. She’s dead.’

Pounding the pavement he ached to hurt himself, to hurt someone. He wanted to wrap his fingers around the nearest neck he could find and squeeze the life out of someone, or something. His face was dry. It was still cold outside, and the wind beat down giving him whiplash. Nothing of that nature mattered because,

‘Dead. She’s dead.’

He finally made it to the modest little brick home around the corner, ignoring the looks from his elderly neighbors and barreled into his house, passing the kitchen, and going to straight down the hall to the left. A sweet ‘N’ decoupaged by Elle swung hazardously as he flung the door opened. The wooden ‘N’ shook and rattled as his breath fell from his body, glancing around at the nursery that was finally complete after months of carefully crafting everything. The pale yellow walls hosted a small hand painted tree that Elle had obsessed over for weeks. The crib, the one that he’s constructed from a box of materials was kitty corner to two large windows with long pink curtains spilling dreamily to the ground. On the wall, bore four little frames with the song that Tom sang to Elle’s belly each and every night, no matter the distance,

‘Vous êtes mon soleil’… ‘You are my sunshine’

Her nappies, little blankets, and supplies were meticulously arranged on a changing table, and inside of her crib there were toys, and all manner of delicate little feminine things.   
Tom wrenched open the closet and found the little frocks that they’d bought and received. He found the little row of tiny shoes. Finally, upon seeing those little things, a straggled sob fell from his mouth and burned his throat as he collapsed onto the floor of his daughter’s nursery. He screamed in the worst pain he’d ever experienced. 

Nora was never coming home. She was never going to see her toys, or wear her little dresses. He was never going to have the chance to sing to her again. Straggled, ugly sobs came from Tom’s mouth. He felt as if they would burn straight through his throat. He lunged and ripped the little outfits off of the tiny plastic hangers and howled into them, bringing the soft fabrics to his face, wondering why god could be so cruel. Nora was his. She was his little girl and he had so many plans revolving around her.

Their first trip to the museum. Taking her to see the Venus de Milo at the Louvre and tell her about the way mummy had cried because of its beauty. Reading her Shakespeare in Regents Park whilst she crawled on a blanket and garbled. When she was old enough, he wanted to take her to the cinema every Sunday. Just the two of them. He wanted to be a father that she could run to when needed, or scare away the monsters that hid under her little bed. She was supposed to be his princess. 

‘Dead. She’s dead.’

Tom cried until he fell asleep on the small pale pink rug, clutching Nora’s little jumper close to his face, praying that he was going to wake up and this was all going to be a bad dream. Elle was going to be fine, and Nora would still live. The car crash would have never happened. His sisters wouldn’t be holding each other and sobbing in the lobby outside of his girlfriend’s hospital room. No. Everything would have been fine…

The beeping started again, but this time Elle was able to jostle herself into consciousness. Her immediate thought was how badly her entire body ached. It was intermingled with a numbing sensation that made her uncomfortable, and a soft cry escaped her lips alerting the man who sat next to her with bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes. 

Tom immediately came to out of the sleep that had been chasing him for the last hour. He’d sat in this spot for nearly three days with hardly any reprieve. In his pocket were a little pair of socks he’d stolen from his daughter’s room before being forced out by his grief-stricken mother. 

‘She needs you! Elle needs you!’ she’d yelled. She was so angry and even through his rumpled, broken heart, Tom picked himself up off the ground, and pushed all thoughts of baby Nora away, instead, focusing on Elle, his beautiful woman, who he was equally close to losing. 

For three days Tom agonized over how he was supposed to tell her that their daughter was gone. The trauma had been too great, and she was too tiny to withstand all of it. He didn’t know how to tell her that he ordered massive baskets of pink peonies and had a placard made so Nora Charlotte Hiddleston could have a proper burial. So he was left to his thought, as his thumb absentmindedly swept over the soft sock. 

“Elle,” his voice was so foreign, even to himself. He loomed over her bed, so thankful for her right this moment. His large hand hovered just above her cheek, and he made contact with the soft bruised flesh, and she felt so real and warm under his palm that tears brimmed in his eyes again. 

“Tom,” she fought hard to get a clearer vision of her lover’s face. The pain in her body was overwhelming to her. She lifted her own hand, having it fall sloppily a few times against her chest, until it finally reached its destination over top of his own, feeling his strength and being reassured of his presence. 

“I love you,” he whispered tearfully to her. Fat, salty tears spilled onto her face and Tom couldn’t resist burying his face in her neck where he continued to cry unashamed. Elle couldn’t comfort him. She had no energy in her body to do so. Instead, she allowed the medications to take over again and she fell into a fitful sleep.

A mother knew…

Before the words were spoken to her, Elle knew of her little girl’s fate. When pregnant with Nora, Elle could feel her from within. Little twitches and kicks reassured her. Her womb felt hollow for this days that she drifted in and out, and then, as Tom held her tightly and explained the circumstances, the truth that she never wanted to exist sprang to the surface, and the most horrible sounds of anguish pierced the air as the parents mourned the loss of their baby. 

Nothing was the same.


	10. Empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, but the next will follow in a few hours. Xx.

She was sick for weeks after being released. Tom had to turn over his part in a series that he'd signed for in order to care for her. She was mostly unresponsive other than a few nods of the head and ‘yes’s’ and ‘no’s’ here and there. Diana had come with the girls earlier and cleaned the nursery out by Tom’s request, and for the first two hours of her homecoming, Elle sat in the center of Nora’s nursery and wailed so loud that Tom was terrified the neighbors would intrude on their intimate pain. He held her, and rocked her, and loved her as much as was possible as he was mourning. 

A month later and coming home from the shop, Tom found his papillon seated by the window, and he thought, with a glimmer of hope, that things would start to be better. He made her a cup of tea, and she smiled at him as he pressed a kiss on her brow. 

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said back, staring out at the starry June night. 

They existed like that until September, when they third year anniversary finally came around. Tom had started to work again, and he became so busy trying to pay their bills, that he and Elle rarely saw each other. Acting became an outlet for him. He and Elle had become so disconnected after the loss of Nora. He was terrified to touch her. Apart of him was scared that he would hurt her if he touched her. What if they made love and she became pregnant again? The thought was unbearable. Nothing could replace his little girl. 

Diana had stopped trying. Sarah finally left to India after delaying her trip for nearly two months. She harbored so much guilt about the crash. She was driving. Emma, who had sustained a broken arm, still came to visit Elle, and refused to let the melancholy take her sister away. Tom would look on at the two and smile, pretending that everything was going to be ok, and one day they would be able to be happy again, and keep the memory of Nora present in their hearts, remembered, and loved. 

He didn’t kid himself though. Elle never slipped. Her emotions stayed in complete lockdown. She never let him see her naked. Once he tried to shower with her and she yelled at him to get out. He’d only wanted to hold her, touch her, and regain the lost connection. 

On the day of their anniversary, he came home with a bouquet of yellow roses and ingredients to make her favorite supper. He wanted to make everything ok. He wanted to shake the pain from her body or take it all himself. Something, he wanted to do something.

“Darling,” he called out hopefully. To his surprise, he smelled her perfume lingering in the air, and his hopes soared high. He set the bag of groceries down and walked to their bedroom where he found his girlfriend dressed in a pair of warm jeans, a thermal and the scarf that he’d given her when they’d first met. 

“Hi,” she said quietly as he came in. She looked up and her eyes glimmered brightly. There was something different about her right then. She looked much older, and so much more grown up. Losing a baby had aged her. She was tired. 

“Hello,” he breathed softly, “You look beautiful,”

“Ditto,”

His heart nearly stopped at the joke between the two of them.

“Tom—I need to talk to you. Come here and sit with me.”

He warily obliged his little bird and came sitting next to her, shifting the weight on the bed. She played with her hands nervously and finally looked up at him when she was ready.

“Three years ago I was a library technician at Cambridge… I lived in a tiny flat, and I was alone. Then you walked into my life and taught me so many things… you taught me how to love.”

“I love you.” He reaffirmed. Elle swallowed. His admission made it harder to cope with what she was doing. 

“I’ve never—there could never be another you, Tom. I love you so much that I still get swarms of butterflies. I’m never going to regret this.” She took his hands in her own and pressed a kiss on his knuckles, “but something has changed. Losing Nora was too much for us. We’re young. Before we found out about her we were free from constraints. I think losing her gave us liberation, no matter how much hate it.”

“Oh god,” he whispered as he realized what was happening.

“I can’t love you the way you deserve to be loved right now, Tom. You need so much more than me. My heart is damaged so badly. I need to heal.”

“I can’t live without you!” Tom whispered harshly, “you mean everything to me! Can’t you see that? Can’t you see?”

“Shh,” she held his hands more tightly and pressed her lips against them, “my heart will belong to you forever. I hope that you can learn to love someone else. One day you’ll have a beautiful little baby and get a chance to be the father that you deserve to be—“

“Stop it, Elle! STOP!” He shouted angrily, throwing her hands from his and picking her shoulders up, bringing them both off of the bed. “I don’t want to love anyone else. You are the only person for me… I want your babies. Can’t you fucking see? Don’t let this tear us apart.”

His pleading made tears gather quickly in her eyes.

“I’m doing this for you. You deserve better,”

“Fuck better!” he screamed, “You are the exact thing I need. I need my Elizabeth… I need you, Elle! Please don’t turn your back on me.”

Carefully she detached from him.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” Her hand caressed the profile of his face, “Be happy.”

He sat on their bedroom floor long after the taxi came for her. 

Just like that the other half of his heart was shredded, and he was left an empty man…


	11. Degas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. So we are nine years down the road. Once again, forgive the career model. It's a bit far-fetched. I'm making it up as I go...there is in fact a purpose for the UNICEF connection that you will see in the following chapter. Thanks for the lovely comments! I feel unworthy!

‘You’re late!’

‘It was the baristas fault.’

‘Why do you need coffee so bad?’

‘Shut up.’

Elizabeth Blair argued back and forth with herself, stationed in the backseat of a cab on her way through a traffic jam towards Kensington where she had a very important business meeting. She looked down at her hands, still a bit tanner than usual from the constant sunlight that Trinidad had provided. She shut her eyes in momentary reverence towards the place that she missed and loved to dearly. It was the only downfall to her job; as soon as attachment set in, you were swept up, put on a plane, and dropped somewhere else in the world. 

This year saw her back in London. She still had a love for the smell of the streets after all of these years. She’s made it her New Year’s resolution to slow down with her career and start making herself more of a priority. That’s why she was there. ELLE UK had contacted her with a five-month contract. She was going to work on their press releases and publicity for a while to show them what she was made of. That in tandem with her work for UNICEF UK would keep her busy, but stationed at least. 

It had been her personal policy for nearly seven years to never stay in one place too long. When she fell into public relations after being noticed on a theater job, the world had been opened up wide for her, just like that. She’d gone on sabbaticals to places all around the world on missions, trying to raise awareness and funding. She’d participated in the TAPS programing that UNICEF had released in the states that past year and spent a good deal of time in New York. Before she’d lived in Chile at a preservation camp in a tiny little hut she called her own. From high rises to holes in the wall, she’d seen everything. And it freed her. 

She was never meant to be stand still while there was a greater purpose for her out there. It was only after six years, a new haircut, and renewed sensibility that she decided it would be nice to settle for a bit, and maybe fall in love. 

She hadn’t had a real, long-term relationship since Tom. For the first year away from him, it was impossible. She’d nearly come back twice, but when she met someone on a Safari through the bush, she realized that though she was not wildly in love, it was possible to have affection for men again without feeling the need for catharsis. It was ok.

Her soirees never lasted very long, though, because she was so busy and married to her career. She couldn’t find a decent partner who wasn’t threatened by her success. It was annoying and disenchanting, but she was committed to making something work. She missed having massages and sex.

“Listen, love, you’d be better off walking from here, I’d reckon.”

Elle impatiently huffed in agreement and paid her bill swiftly. She tipped him, and then quickly set out on the streets, thankful for the warmth that rang in July. Her meeting was two blocks, and she’d dressed comfortably enough that if she made a mad dash, no one would notice. 

Panting by the time she arrived, Elle checked her time, and was happily early. She went through check in, and then excused herself into the bathroom for evaluation. She’d gone with a tee-shirt dress and boots. Her hair was still cropped and trendy, showing off her long neck. Accessories dotted her outfit here and there, and she was quite proud of herself and she smoothed invisible wrinkles from her dress down with nerves  
.   
Her mobile rang just then, and she wasn’t surprised at the called. It was Sophie, her acclaimed best friend, and personal assistant.

“Hey Soph. How’s Dan’s shoot?” 

She’d sent Sophia to observe one of her client’s photo shoots that day since she couldn’t make it. So far the hourly check in proved to be ok, and that everything was running smoothly. 

“He’s happy… there being good to him. I just called to let you know that Linda finally sent the updates on the Guinea trip. She has appointments book in the calendar, so I sent them over so you could pick which worked best.”

“Good, good… I was getting impatient with that. All right, I’m about to head in. Should I be aware of anything else?”

“Nope. Break a leg!”

“Bye.”

The Guinea trip had been proposed as soon as word hit that she was coming back to London. UK reps from UNICEF had cultured her knowledge and she was always faithful to them. They were trying to launch a celebrity-based campaign that encouraged fanbase to donate to their mission. Even though she hated the idea of celebrity power, she still went along with it because it was for the people first and foremost  
.   
Elle applied fresh lipstick and then headed upstairs where Kim Sanders greeted her warmly with two kisses on the cheek, and shinning green eyes. It was only the two of them, which was a surprise to her. She expected a boardroom of people grilling her relentlessly. 

“Please have a seat, darling,”

Elle did as she was told, and got comfortable while Kim sat next to her in the conference room.

“Well, you know why you’re here… we want to get you on board for the upcoming fall season… We received references from some of your clients and we couldn’t possibly ignore the enormous name you’re making for yourself in the world of publicity. How do you feel about Elle, Elizabeth?”

Her dimples popped bright and cheerful as Kim spoke to her with such encouragement.

“I feel like it’s my next home,” she breathed, “I want to approach this season with a new look on putting the magazine out there…new innovative ways. Digital magazine covers, dual stars, press releases… I can see it all in the future.”

Kim’s smile was bright, and Elle knew that she’d just secured her place at Elle UK.

Afterward Sophia and Langdon DeMarco met her for a celebratory lunch at a local place. They had become her closest friends and were a good support system when she needed it. Upon greeting both, she was enthralled with the male counterpart, a happily married gay man, who always beamed when he saw her, no exceptions.

“….Still can’t believe that you are working for Elle UK! Oh my god, think of all the samples you’ll get!” Sophia squealed happily. Elle grinned at her excitement and shifted her eyes towards DeMarco, who had a grin of sarcasm on his face. They both had a private laugh at how giddy their friend was.

“I’m sure you’ll be in my closet even more than usual, now.”

“Yep.”

“It’s a shame that Lionel couldn’t make it. You said he was meeting with the art dealer?”

“Yes… he’s excited. With the opening so close we’re unsure about things, and wanting everything to be right,”

DeMarco and his husband Lionel were the proud owners of a gallery in Essex, and now were opening a brand new model in central London. Elle was their PR woman and had pulled the strings to make the magic happen. She had been over sketches and policies thousands of times with them, but the jitters were still there.

“Everything is going to be perfect, relax,” the petite woman demanded, “you’re starting to make me feel nervous, now!”

“Will you both be there for the opening?”

“Yes!” Sophia explained for the both of them, “I cleared her schedule so that she wouldn’t be jetting off somewhere. And she has her final fitting at Ellie Saab on Thursday. Dem… you’ll freak out when you see it!”

DeMarco looked on affectionately at the younger woman and smiled. He was sure that Elle would be a visionary. Quiet and simple in her style, she exuded the aura of a true lady of class, which was indeed rare for her age. He was slightly curious to whether or not all of her beauty had to do with the success in her work.

“That’s great… Lionel will be so happy,”

They finished their meal and then Elle left for home, happy to have the evening off. It was rare that her schedule was so light and she had the opportunity to take stuff home and work from her cozy office.  
Her London flat was modest, but beautiful. Being surrounded by poverty while on her sabbaticals taught her to live more simply and give to makeup for the loss. She was always so humble after coming back to luxury, and when she moved from her Manhattan apartment, she decided to purge a lot of her luxuries.

Soft pastels were highlighted as the afternoon sunlight flittered through the bay window. Her home was fresh and airy. The assaulting smell of lavender was a reminder to calm down and decompress. This was her haven. 

Elle entered the sitting room after hanging her coat up, and setting her handbag down. Her well loved cream sofa treated her limbs so well after long days. The mink throw had been a gift, and it still sent a shiver of delight through her when she ran her fingers along the soft texture. 

Pictures and paintings alike cluttered the walls, telling a story of her amazing world travels. Her smiles, all genuine and endless, made light bloom in her belly. In those years all of the sadness had been forgotten and she had found peace in her mission. It made her ignorant of the life she’d led before, the life with Tom Hiddleston, passionate lover, and aspiring actor. 

She’d seen him at the cinema. She thought it might be good for her, to possibly see him in a different light and that it would somehow cleanse her. When she saw War Horse, it struck her how much he’d grown and that he was no longer the boy she’d met and fell in love with nine years before. His curls were gone, but his eyes were all the same, and just as blue, and shining in the same need to please. She was happy for him. He’d actualized the dreams that he’d created for himself.

After that movie, she let that part of her life go. She after all, had set him free.

Sighing, and shaking her head, she kicked her boots off, and made her way through the hall and towards her office. Her computer was blank, and her cozy chair in front of it inviting her to sit and work for the next few hours. She knew there were a thousand little things that she needed to take care of. As a rule, sticky notes were banned, because she easily became obsessed and dependent on them. In Ghana, she used them so frequently that her room looked at if a post-it factory had bombed it. 

Elle settled in to her chair without her traditional cuppa. She was so excited for her new position at Elle UK, and that adrenaline sent her into work overdrive. What she planned on being a lazy ten minutes, turned into four hours and two conference calls. When her back finally ached badly from sitting there that long, she got up, stretched, and decided to check in for the evening.

Thursday, the day of her fitting came all too soon. She was dizzyingly pleased with the way it fit her, and how the soft tufts of fabric made her feel. Sophia, who insisted on coming along with her, cooed in delight, and after she was peeled down, and once again comfortable in a summer dress and sandals, she treated them to macchiatos at a local place. 

From there it was on to her first assignment with Elle UK. She was supervising the publicity for a photo shoot with a local house model as the cover star. Kim had set aside a space within the warehouse for her to work on the release and the build-ups. She had so much fun that she forgot that she was working. She got a chance to meet Harry Richardson, who was currently lingering in her field of work, and was representing Jemma, the house model. They discussed different projects they’d been working on, and he easy charmed her. If her gay-dar hadn’t been so well defined after being friends with Lionel and DeMarco, then she would have loved to see what he looked like out of the grey sweater he wore. 

He brought them coffee and snacks from the kraft kart throughout the shoot, and called her Lizzy. She didn’t have the heart to correct him, and was perhaps a little too surprised with the strange shorter version of her name. Not many called her Elle, now-a-days, only close friends. To her work collogues, she was Elizabeth. 

“I think I’m becoming rather good with your coffee order,” Harry said slyly coming back into their joint workspace. Elle turned up from her computer smiled warmly taking the cup and murmuring appreciation.   
“It’s perfect,” she declared with a tease after tasting the revitalizing liquid and then setting it down. She was nearly ready to go. Jemma had left an hour before, and she wanted to leave after Harry had gone, but he didn’t seem to budge. Instead, he sat on his rolling chair studying her casually.

“Elle, there is a gala opening tomorrow night. Maybe I’m being forward, but I would love to see you there… and drink lots of champagne, and maybe have dinner afterwards.”

Her eyes nearly burst out of her sockets in shock. He laughed at her comically, clearly confused at the source of her surprise, and grinned toothily. 

“W-what? Oh, yes… Is if for Deco? I’ll be there anyway. I did the publicity for it,”

He began to laugh uncontrollably. 

“Oh, Christ, this is the first time I’ve ever invited a lady to her own show. Forgive me—“

“No!” she said quickly. An apologetic smile, and saucy dimples later and she said, “I would love to see you there. I’ll be the girl in the dress,”

“How will I know which dress?” he teased, playing into her banter.

“You’ll know,” she winked, and finished closing up her portfolio, taking her phone off of the courtesy charger, and packing up the rest of her bits and bobs.

“Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow evening then, Lizzy.”

On her way out a cringe was replaced with a mirthful laugh. They’d have to work on the name game…

5:00 p.m. sharp saw her entering Heath, a prestigious salon that she’d been a client at for quite some time. She earned the right of sessions with the master stylist, and they were her most trusted go to spot whenever she was needed at an event like tonight’s.

Entering the glossy salon she grinned at the receptionist, and before she had the chance to excuse her tights and baseball t-shirt, Heath himself came flying into the waiting room, twelve earrings pierced proudly in his left ear, with a knowing grin on his face as he looked her over.

“My little gem!” he gushed. She easily attracted friends of his caliber. There was something about her. “Are you ready?”

“Hook me up… did the dress arrive?”

A look of reverence crossed his face.

“A rep from the boutique dropped it off an hour ago… I had to peak. Blue… we’ve never done blue before, Elle,”

“I thought it would be a nice change,” she grinned proudly all while the front desk manager laughed at the intrigue.

“Come on, my love, you’re about to go from Lindsay to Kate.”

She ignore the jibe and followed him to wonderland. 

It wasn’t until two hours later when she was revealed to herself, did she realize just how beautiful her dress was. The cobalt blue plunging neckline and full skirt was full embroider with glitz that shimmered when it caught the light. It complimented her tiny stature, and made her look like something out of a story. As she moved, the beautiful fabric rustled with her, and she swallowed hard. Heath had slicked her hair gracefully, and given her deep smoky eyes. No earrings or necklaces tainted the look. The show was about the dress and nothing else. 

“I think I might cry. Do you mind if we photograph you?”

Elle shook her head silently, and as Heath spotted the overwhelming emotion, he hugged his client and friend. 

“You are the definition of lovely,”

Arriving at the gala she expected Sophia to find her immediately, but instead, she lingered around the crowded maze of art for a while before finally bumping into a familiar face.  
“Lionel,” she grinned, her cheeks flaming, as his arms cast out wide to see her better. 

“Oh fuck. I wasn’t ready for this.” He murmurs softly. She laughed, tiny and nervous, and the situation was made even more uncomfortable as DeMarco joined his husband in the evaluation. They were very silent. It gave her goosebumps of nervousness. 

“Perfect,” she wasn’t sure whether it was DeMarco or Lionel who uttered the world, she found herself enveloped by four arms, and Lionel hissed,

“Don’t mess up her hair!”

Once they were finished fawning over her, DeMarco made her twirl in the glittering lights. She beamed.

“We need to put you on display,” he uttered.

Lionel agreed.

“Come, let’s go meet some people…”

For the first thirty minutes, they networked. Harry and Sophia both had failed to show up yet, so she took the time to get the business aspect of the evening out of the way. She was introduced to new people, and spoiled with champagne and compliments. The event was crammed, but oh-so chic. It was apparent that it was going to be a hit. It wasn’t very often that art galleries gained so much of an applause. Both DeMarco and Lionel had every right to be proud.

“Oh…! Elle, you must meet our dealer! Diana!” Before Elle could process what was going on, her shoulders were being turned involuntarily by the tug of her guide for an uncountable time that evening in the direction of a new face, or someone responsible for the success of the night.

Elle’s stomach dropped and lifted several times at first glance. 

Diana Hiddleston, in all of her elegant glory, stared at her in awe from a little across the way, champagne glass in her hand, beautiful gown on her body. Elle couldn’t imagine her face at that moment. DeMarco looked at her expectantly as he dragged her forward, her heels clattering against the floor. It took a moment of processing before the elderly woman before her became equally uncomfortable. 

She hated herself just then. She hated herself for disappointing this woman so greatly. 

“Elle, this is Diana Hiddleston, our art dealer. Diana, this is Elizabeth Blair, our public relations guru.”

“Diana,” Elle breathed softly, her amazement still very clear. Forgoing a handshake, Diana easily tugged Elle’s body into her own and squeezed tight, the familiar scent of her once mother lingering in her nostrils and sending emotions straight towards her tender heart. Breaking it off with Tom had many after effects, and many aspects that made her hate herself, but losing Diana and the rest of his family was perhaps the worst feeling in the world. Having her here now was too complicated for her to process.

“DeMarco,” Diana said, her eyes not moving from her would be daughter, “her champagne is out. Please get her another.”

Once the man disappeared, the first few tears leaked from Elle’s eyes, only to have the doting woman quickly wipe them away, and gently chide her about her makeup.

“I never saw true beauty until this night,” she murmured softly. Elle’s eyes softened and she immediately felt the familiar sting of loss. How had she gone almost nine years without this beautiful woman to guide her?

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you after all of this time,” was all Elle could say.

“Destiny is a tricky thing, isn’t it, my darling? You… you’ve grown beautifully.”

“Thank you, Diana.”

Her face turned serious for a moment.

“Tom is here tonight, Elle…”

She swallowed and it took all she possessed not to fall into sobbing heaps on the floor. She thought that she’d prepared herself to see Tom Hiddleston again, but at the simple notion that he was present in the same room as she, set off a flurry of nerves and grievances. 

“I don’t want to love anyone else. You are the only person for me…”

His final pleas echoed so profoundly in her mind and shook her core. She had tried to shun him from her life, purge all things Tom Hiddleston, but that had only made her an unprepared fool.

“I—I…Diana, I can’t see him!” she whispered in a soft plea. Diana nodded understandingly, realizing the pain that each of her children, paternal and otherwise, had suffered almost seven years ago at the loss of a precious baby. Diana had come to the hospital and sat with her while Tom slept, or showered. She had been a constant during that period of darkness. 

Elle had disappointed her so badly.

“He’s moved on… right now his career won’t allow him to settle, but I’m sure that he’s happy again.”

“How long did that take?” she dared ask.

“A while, as I suppose it did for you as well.”

“I left for him,” she said mournfully, “he deserved better,”

“He loved you for a very long time after you left. We all did,”

“Diana,” she cried again, bringing the woman into her arms. Diana held her back, and smoothed her back.

“Don’t cry, my beauty. Celebrate how life goes on and we evolve. You stand here so beautiful and successful, and my son is happy and so lucky. Don’t let sadness ruin your current state.”

“I’m scared,”

“Me too.” She whispered, “Just get over it so you might be able to have a nice time tonight.” She hugged her again and whispered by her ear, “he fancies Degas.” 

It was in the quieter scene of the gala, that Tom Hiddleston, hands fisted deeply in the pockets of his tux bottoms, stared aimlessly at the art that hung in front of him, trying to shake the different memories that accompanied it. His date, for the evening, had wandered off in search of a loo, and he was left in silence, thinking. It was a dangerous occupation. 

A soft swishing interrupted his destructive pattern, and before he could turn his head, a deep voice called,

“Lizzy! Ah, there you are! I’m so sorry that I’m late,”

Tom’s head shifted, and his legs nearly gave out. Standing feet away from him, face nearly canceled out against the shadows of the room, he saw his past lover, a vision in her blue gown, sparkling softly as misplaced light reflected off of the soft fabrics. Her face was nearly unreadable, and the shock he felt was more than her. She looked solemn and prepared. Had she sought him out? 

His beautiful Elle, the woman who’s violently torn herself out of his life nine years prior, stood before him, a grown person, with sad brown eyes as she stared at him. Anger, and longing returned almost as fast as he dismissed it, and he realized, to his dismay, that the sense of sadness tonight had come from his memories of Paris, when his sweet papillon cried in front of her favorite art statute, her heart torn with immaculate love for the history in its piece. 

Then his eyes shifted to the intruder, that she ignored. Tall, though shorter than himself, dark hair, and tanned skin. He called her Lizzy. Did she go by that now? The nickname left distaste in his mouth. Her expression shifted to slightly pleading, and she begged him with her eyes to stay put one second. 

Elle turned sharply, afraid that she might fall over with all over the exhilaration running through her body at once.

“Hello Henry! I’m sorry to impose, but I’m feeling very thirsty right now…”

“I’ll get you some champagne, Lizzy… and by the way, you look stunning tonight!” he winked, and just like that she was once again alone with him. Her heels sounded as slow deliberate steps inched them closer together. 

“Hi-“

“Hello-“

Both parties cut each other off, and Elle laughed unable to help herself. Still embarrassed and shy as ever, Tom ran his hands through his slicked back, auburn hair.

“You’ve seen my mother?”

Her head nodded in confirmation.

“You look… god, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Stop… Tom, you don’t have to give me courtesy compliments. I know I don’t deserve them.”

“Elle—“

“Tom, it’s good to see you,” she breathed. “You’ve done so well for yourself and I’m so proud of you”

“You are?” he seemed incredulous.

She smiled naturally, and genuine for the first time.

“Definitely… Diana is the buyer for the gallery. Small world,”

“Are you here with—uh,” he tried to ask awkwardly. She blushed.

“I’m doing the publicity for DeMarco and Lionel. I work with them,”

His eyes widened in surprise,

“Is that right? Well that’s wonderful…Elle… dear god, you look so beautiful. This is new?” he said, indicating her short hair.

“I needed a change. You’re hair… is different,”

“It’s for a new role… Shakespeare.”

“Shakespeare,” she laughed, “you can’t stay away, can you, Thomas?”

Suddenly she realized that the words sounded like playful banter and made the situation awkward. His eyes crinkled in delight.

“How have you been, Elle?” The question was one of warm curiosity. He was such a man now, with broader shoulders, and a goatee to boot. He never kept facial hair when they were dating.   
“I’m involved with a lot of different UN agencies and I’ve been busy with travel… Tom, the world is so amazing when you just go,” the liveliness in her voice made her skin glow and her dimples sink into her cheeks. “Sorry, I’m rambling…”

“No, no, god, please don’t apologize. It’s true. I’m glad you have been able to venture. You’ve always wanted see the world. You’re so happy,” he nearly trailed off into a reverent whisper as he said the last word. 

“I am. And I’m glad that you have become so accomplished.” She went forward to hug him, so she could show her sincerity, and as Tom held her back, he felt the thick, raw emotion come back. She smelled the same, and the way she fit into his arms felt like home. He squeezed. He pressed his lips to her temple, and all too short, it was over, and they were separating. 

She smiled blissfully. 

“Tom?”

Tom nearly winced as the voice of his date, Rachel, echoed through the hall as she found him. She was carrying glasses of champagne and eyed Elle carefully, wary of the close proximity. Elle’s eyes casted away awkwardly, and she looked to the floor, the smile still lingering for the part.

“Rach… hello,” he opened an arm, and the tall blonde slid into place, sizing up Elle all while the tiny woman prayed for Harry to rescue her from this shaming. “Elle, this is my date Rachel. Rachel, this is Elle… She’s done the publicity for gallery.”

“Really?” Rachel’s blue eyes sparkled with true interest. “So you’re a publicist?”

“I am,” she agreed proudly, her eyes flicking to Tom.

“I’m looking for someone right now to my publicity. I do theater work. That’s where we met,” she knocked Tom’s shoulder playfully, and Tom, who looked uncomfortable, nodded in agreement. “Could I leave you my card?”

“Oh—uh, sure. I have to warn you that I am very busy during this season, and I don’t work with a lot of single talent…. But we can have a coffee and chat about what you’re looking for. I’m attached to a lot of good publicity agencies that might want to sign you,”

Her eyes got bigger and a tiny squeal escaped her mouth as she tugged on Tom’s arm.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’ll look forward to your call then,”

“My personal assistant Sophia is here… she’s got red hair and is wearing vintage Dior. You can make an appointment with her,”

Rachel looked at Tom expectantly,

“Tom, do you mind?”

“No,” he grinned, “By all means,”

Alone again. 

“I’m impressed.” He spoke quietly, a mirthful smile on his lips. 

“She’s ambitions,” Elle said, fidgeting with her fingers.

“We’re not dating,” Tom explained quickly. 

“Tom, you don’t have to explain anything to me...”

“I never thought I’d see you... I thought you had gone home,”

“Home?” Elle repeated dumbly, “Tom, San Francisco was never my home,”

“So what did you do after you left me?” a gentle tick in his jaw and the flash in his eyes. It wasn’t often she’d seen him angry, but she’d struck a nerve in him. 

“Lizzy!”

She had never felt so relieved and sad at the same time. 

“I have to go... bye, Tom.”

She turned her back, and he watched as she floated away and joined the man who didn’t deserve to call her by some stupid nickname. Tom was bitter as he watched the chap’s arm slink down towards her waist as they drifted off into the crowd. He was left alone, in front of the Degas, feeling somewhat more hollow than he had in nine long years...


	12. Cantorelli's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that Elle was going to be apart of the Guinea trip. Enjoy. Xx.

In September, fashion week came and Elle was busy, and crazed. She had been desperately trying to make time for both her work and personal life. She had been seeing Harry for a month, and it had been blissful. They both led hectic lives and he seemed to be very understanding. 

“Ellie, baby, don’t worry. I have to work late too…” Harry’s disappointment didn’t run as deep as she assumed it was going to.

“Ok,” she tried sounding as brisk as possible as she cleared out a conference table for her next appointment. “Do you want to come by tonight?”

“That sounds lovely,” he purred softly. She grinned, feeling relaxed finally. Harry was charming, good-looking, and so sweet to her. She’d needed him after her run in with Tom. Nothing good had come of that night other than reconnecting with Diana, whom she’d had lunch and shopped with a handful of times since. Both Emma and Sarah were away in India, where Sarah held permanent residence with her fiancé. It was incredible, Elle gushed. She was looking forward to the holidays and having her long lost friends over for supper. 

‘You’ll be cooking, then?’ Diana asked playfully. Elle went pink, and rolled her eyes.

“Alright, I’ll bring a take-a-way… take your time,”

“Bye, love.”

“Bye,” Elle hung the phone up, and sighed, smoothing her skirt. She had an appointment with the head of the UNICEF celebrity initiative, Linda House, for the upcoming Guinea trip that she was supposed to be doing the PR work today. Linda was bringing her dream team today, and a rep for some of the chosen talent to sponsor the trip. She was nervous and terribly excited.

“Soph?” she called into the intercom, “where are we with House?”

“She and a few others are in the waiting room, should I send them in?”

“Yes, please.”

Linda, an older woman wearing a pair of sturdy cargos and an UNICEF logoed shirt, was the first to slip into the conference room. Elle had worked with her once before, and greeted her with a hug,

“Elle, darling, how are you?”

“Fantastic and very excited about this…”

“Me too… I’ve got Smith Jepson and Luke Windsor here… that’s all who we needed for today’s chat, I think. Is there tea, dear?”

“Yes, I’ll have my assistance bring some in,”

Ten minutes later and the last of the purposed party, Luke Windsor arrived. Luke headed up Public Eye Entertainment and did work for a lot of famous goonies out there. Elle imagined him to be a lot more intimidating than he was. When he entered, he waved a friendly hello before taking his seat to level out the proportion of the conference table, and was just in time for tea.

While Linda and her rep Jane worked on fixing their tea, Elle took the opportunity to personally introduce herself to Luke.

“—I’ve been following your work for a while now, actually.” He surprised her with the notion and her eyes widened a bit as proof. “You’re becoming quite the ticket here.”

“Wow… I don’t even know what to say to that,”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he beamed. 

“Yeah, It does…”

The meeting began with tentative dates November 6th to November 13. Since the weather was constantly warm, it didn’t matter as much as it should have. Linda had already spoken to the supplier and they would have the items they were distributing shipped long before they arrived. 

The last item of business was Luke and Elle’s piece on their method of raising awareness to the campaign. Elle offered her team for a commercial to broadcast for three weeks after, and also mentioned brand recognition. She had pre-written press releases to show for example, and even Luke was impressed with the initiative. 

“…. Well, Tom’s solid,” he spoke after Elle collected her papers. “He’s so excited, and we we’re thinking about using twitter as a sort of build up. Once his fans connect him with the mission, we could raise thousands of pounds…. Elle, you have a bit more experience with social media, so I was hoping that we could meet with you and plan how we would execute that… We’ve got nearly a month,”

Tom. Tom who? She wanted to ask. 

“That sounds good… Are you solid on a single talent right now?”

“Since the Marvel film launches this month, the publicity will be unmatched. Tom’s very genuine about his desire to help, too.”

“Tom Hiddleston?” Elle said, her facial features twisting uneasily. 

“The one and only.” Luke grinned as if Tom was his pride and joy. Elle went pale and felt a little ill. Tom. Her Tom was going to be joining the Guinea mission. They would spend an entire week together in an impoverished African country. Her chest felt tight, and she had to dig her nails into palms to remain professional. 

“We can schedule an appointment to meet and go over some strategies…”

“That’ll be fab. He’s flying out tomorrow evening. How about dinner before hand?”

It was too surprised with how fast Luke worked to think of my schedule.

“I’m free around six. Can you make sure to put it in the books with Sophia before leaving?”

He smiled happily,

“Of course, Elizabeth.”

“Call me Elle,”

That evening she waited on Harry, and was infuriated that he didn’t join her after he’d promised to do so. She had no one to vent to, and had to worry about seeing Tom again tomorrow. On top of it, he was going to be royalty on the Guinea trip. That had never been the point. All of the mothers suffering and he was going to be soaking in fucking glory. 

She cleaned her apartment into the early morning, too disgusted to want to eat anything. All she could think of was how awkward it was going to be to sit in front of both men, pretending that she and Tom had never met before to a man who thought he’d hung the moon. 

Her counters smelled like bleach and lavender by the time she finally collapsed on her bed. She shut her eyes and thought about the last encounter with Tom. He’d seemed so liberated and happy. When he hugged her, he squeezed her so tightly that it felt like she’d never left. The soft kiss to her forehead still burned in place, and made her heart flutter incessantly. 

Then there was Rachel, and his undying need to inform Elle that there was not dating. It had made her uncomfortable, and foolish to see him with such a beautiful woman. Of course they weren’t dating. Tom sure enough had a different woman in his bed every night.

With a loud groan she turned over in her bed, and buried her face in her covers. She was strong. She had Harry now, and a very successful career. Tom Hiddleston could not sway her.

__________________________________________________

Luke booked the appointment for 6:30 at Cantorelli’s, a local Italian restaurant where Tom wouldn’t likely gain attention to himself. Elle was caught up in meetings and then at the ELLE offices for the majority of the afternoon. She was up to her eyeballs in work and by the time her taxi arrived at the tiny restaurant, she didn’t care how she looked, or that her hair was messily framing her face, bangs falling haphazardly against her forehead. She had to go back and forth with editors all day long, and her nerves were positively frayed. 

She made her way into the establishment and inhaled at the aroma, suddenly very aware that she hadn’t eaten that day. She was starving and wanted to dig into a manicotti, or lasagna. But it was a business dinner, and it was unprofessional to eat like a pig. 

“Good evening, ma’am,”

“Hi,” she smiled at the host, “There should be a reservation under Windsor,”

“Yes, ma’am. Your party has arrived… let me get your coat,” 

Once her pea coat was gone, she was left in the shift dress and tights. She held her bag tight, and followed the young man through the intimate dining room, where the general soft buzz of chatter floated through the room. She could see the back of Tom’s head and then Luke’s brown eyes from where they were stationed in a cozy booth off in the corner. She felt sick, and wanted to leave. She’d forgotten all of her anxiety through the busy and hectic workday. She had a full plan of how she was going to brace herself for being in such a close proximity to Tom for an entire dinner, but everything seemed to be forgotten as she arrived at the table, and both men stood. 

“Elle, I’d like to introduce you to Tom Hiddleston, Tom, this is the UNICEF publicist, Elle,”

“First an art gallery, and now UNICEF. I am humbled to stand in your presence, Ellie,”

She glared at Tom as Luke looked on in confusion. 

“I’m sorry—do you both know each other?”

“We’ve recently reconnected,” Tom murmured, eyes not leaving a furious looking Elle, “please, darling, sit.”

As soon as she slid into the booth, she noted that the wine had already been ordered. The host handed her a menu and said a few words before he disappeared.

“Well, that’s good, then. It’ll be easier to get a feel for what we all want here,”

Elle swallowed uncomfortably, eyes refusing to meet Tom’s mirthful stare. 

“Easier,” he mused. “Hmm… what’s good here, Luke?”

“Everything. I think I’ll have pasta.”

“The portion sizes look ridiculous. Elle, would you like to share something? A manicotti, perhaps?”

That bastard. Elle glanced up, first at Tom, then towards Luke, and then back. This was a professional dinner. Tom was the client. 

“Sure.”

She drank a glass of wine before their shared dish came and Luke took two phone calls, leaving an awkward silence between Tom and a stoic Elle. When they began to eat, the conversation started.

“Tom, tell me why you’ve chosen to rep UNICEF,” Elle requested before taking a bite of food. He was a bit surprised by her question and interest, but answered none-the-less.

“I’ve done a bit of research into the starving populations in Guinea and I suppose it’s the empty, acidic feeling in my belly that won’t allow me to eat for days after…. I’m not an expert, but I am willing to learn and to try,”

She nodded, acknowledging his answer, and the sincerity of his voice. 

“Are you familiar with the TAPS program?”

“No,” he shook his head, and leaned forward, clearly intent on an explanation.

“It’s recently released so it hasn’t gotten much attention. Basically some of the lead fashion labels have agreed to donate fresh water to some of these African countries that go without… the contingency is leaving your mobile untouched for one hour. For one hour, one family is given a days worth of clean water.” Her chest was nearly heaving in excitement, “It hasn’t taken off as we would have hoped it would,”

“Small sacrifices,” Luke muttered in disgust.

“You guys don’t know the half of it,” Elle explained sipping her wine, “I come back from these trips and I hate myself. You can’t stand your house, or car… luxury things seem so stupid. Why drive a 50,000 dollar car when there are small children going hungry,”

Tom’s elbows were set on the table, his gaze fixated on her in fascination and adoration. Her passion was so evident in the elevating tone of her voice and the values she’d set for herself. He wanted to run home and bin every useless gadget that he’d accumulated over his years of doing well. What she said made so much sense. Why have so much?

It was amazing how he was able to keep a firm understanding of what she was saying at all. Six years later and she was still mesmerizingly beautiful. Her short haircut placed such an emphasis on her feminine features. In the glow of the restaurant lighting she was soft and dainty, with a pale neck, and full lips. It wasn’t right for him to think of her in such a manner. There was no redemption of their affection after all of this time, and the scarring pain still existed inside of his heart. The sole torture of his existence for two years following her abrupt departure was her reason. They had both hurt over the baby, but Tom had stayed strong for her. To have her abandon a relationship they’d both invested so much into gutted him terribly. His hurt eventually had turned into anger and hatred. She’d ripped his soul straight from his body and been so selfish. 

But looking at her now, and seeing the fiery compassion in her eyes, he couldn’t feel the spark of malice thoughts of her had always given him. Instead, her felt warmth and happiness to share a space with her. 

“It makes perfect sense,” he murmured in a low voice. “Tell me what I can do…”

“It’s all about press, Tom.” Luke’s business attitude cut the blaze short, and returned both Elle and Tom back down to earth and towards the dinner they were having.

“Yes…Luke mentioned a commercial,”

“A challenge,” Elle beamed, “You’ve got an entire platform to work with… and according to Luke, your fanbase is very loyal and would help spread the word,”

“Loyal is appropriate,” he muttered darkly. Elle ignored him, too excited.

“If you issue a challenge and follow up when you return home, we could raise so much money for this country… I was thinking you could blog. Do you still write?”

When they were lovers, and Tom was still studying at Cambridge, he would write beautiful things. Sometimes she would fall asleep curled up next to him on the sofa, allowing him to proof over her time after time, just because she loved to hear his thoughts and his voice.

“I do,” he agreed.

“Your fans would go wild if you wrote a journal every day. Just to keep them in sync with the experiences and how much they could help…”

“Brilliant,” Luke said, slightly taken-a-back. “We could keep the location a secret and allow the anticipation to build. Tom could publish pictures, and testimonies… that’s fucking brilliant, Elle.”

“Tom…. I think you’re the person to do this. Are you sure you can make the commitment?” Elle asked him very seriously. Her food seemed to have been long forgotten in all of her intense excitement. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were shining beautifully. He wanted to kiss her, or to sweep his thumb over her cheekbone and see whether or not he could still make her body shiver. 

“I’m 100% yours.”

She nodded eagerly, and Luke clapped his hands together. Elle felt pride beaming within, and she picked up her wine glasses again and toasted to the endeavor. A rowdy cheers echoed the tiny space, and her dimples sank in deeply, mesmerizing Tom. Luke’s mobile rang for the third time, and he begged forgiveness as he scampered away. 

Tom spoke this time, no longer scared of the idea of chatting with her.

“I wish you could hear yourself when you talk about this stuff… amazing. How you cope with all of that passion?”

“Lots of yoga,” she joked, clearly feeling more relaxed. “Tom—this means so much to me. Thank you for taking it seriously. I think it’ll change your life and your perspective on things…. If you just look at others and what they go through…”

“It is sincerely a pleasure to work so closely with UNICEF. I come with a lot of baggage now… to know that we’re turning that into something constructive makes the nightmare of it all worthwhile” 

Elle wanted him to elaborate, but she refrained.

“I’ve been to see your mom a few times,”

“Oh, yes… she’s talked about you a lot the past month. I think she secretly fancies you more than me.”

She laughed quietly.

“Haven’t you always thought that?”

“Elle,” he began in a low voice, “It’s so wonderful to see you so happy.” He reached a hand across the table and caressed her knuckles. “you deserve happiness.”

“So do you, Tom. There is so much to be sorry about, that I don’t even have the energy to start.”

“Don’t” he whispered, “I don’t need you to apologize for anything…. We were young, and foolish and hurt. But love isn’t ever a thing you should apologize for. Not by my standards, at least.”

She was about to respond, Tom’s blue eyes fixated on her own, but Luke quickly came back to the table, apologizing endlessly for the interruption. 

When they left, Tom hugged her tightly, and kissed her hair, shielded from Luke’s view, he held her soundly for the course of several long seconds, enjoying everything about it. 

“Good luck on the junket.”

”Thank you, darling. Luke will be in contact with you so we can begin the teasers. We’ll be seeing each other before the trip, yes? Alright, then, good.” With one last squeeze of the hand, he slid into his waiting car, and they drove away, off to Heathrow to jetset around the world, and Elle sat there on the sidewalk feeling short of breath and so incredibly vulnerable. 

“Tom,” she whispered long seconds after he was gone.

She made love to Harry that night, and when he was asleep after, she cried for everything she’d tried to forget…


	13. Socks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I jumped the gun, but this is how I originally wrote their reconciliation, and there is something about it that enchants me. Enjoy. Xx.

Elle met with Luke more than anyone else for the Guinea trip. Tom was busy with press, but they had several brief phone conferences. He looked drained, and was usually taken from the call for another interview before they could finish. Elle began to feel a sick longing in her belly to speak with Tom, not this media figure that was blowing up everywhere. When they were together, he’d always feared having his face override his ability to act. She was scared that it was dangerously close to happening.

She became so fantastically busy into November that the week of the trip crept up on her, and suddenly she was trying to get a bunch of last minute to-do’s in order. Sophia, who was not attending due to scheduling, was a sleepless train wreck. Elle UK kept Elle so busy that she often went home and fell asleep on the sofa before she was able to make it to bed. Winter was hot. Harry saw less and less of his new girlfriend, because he was equally busy. 

Lately his tight schedule had made him very hostile and standoffish. He’d left her place twice after stress induced shouting matches, and when he did saw, he was liquored up more than half of the time. Elle was angry at herself, and blamed what was happening on herself. Maybe if she wasn’t so invested in work that she could be more available to him. Her militant feminist side argued profusely with her. Harry was equally busy, and equally to blame.

Guinea, and the prospects of getting away, drove Elle to continue on. The day before the trip she met Harry for coffee, and wasn’t surprised by the large bouquet of flowers that he held in his arms. He looked sharp in a suit with his face freshly shaved. Elle had contemplated ending things with him. She was tired of treading on water with him, but seeing him so cheerful put her foot in her mouth. 

“Hello, sweetheart…. These are for you,” he placed a kiss on her cheek, and put the flowers in her hand. 

“Thank you,” she murmured quietly.

“Listen, love… I know things had been rough, but I think this trip is going to be good. We’ll have some time to spend apart from one another…it’ll be good,”

“I’m sorry,” Elle bit with a sarcastic expression, her stance becoming very irate at thought of him needing a break, “I didn’t realize you were so put out,”

Harry’s jaw muscle twitched, 

“No! I didn’t mean that. I just think it’s high time we don’t spend every fucking night together… Listen, this isn’t going how it went in my head… give me a break, sweetie. I’ve been run amok this week.”

Rather than continue her assault, she breathed deep and sighed. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry… maybe this will be a nice rejuvenating period for the both of us.”

“Two PR people together equals a catastrophe… but I like you, Ellie. There is something very special about you, and I want to make this work.” He rubbed his temples and then peaked his head up and smiled softly at her. “I’m sorry I’m fucking up so badly.”

“Don’t.” she said sternly. “It’s me too. I’m a fucking workhorse. It’s a double standard and I realize that. When I get back we’ll just have to try harder to put each other first,”

A mutual agreement was made, and sealed with a chaste kiss, and as Elle retracted, and saw Harry’s muted green eyes, a hidden longing inside of her belly wished that it was icy blue eyes that looked back at her…

It was nearly nine and Elle had finished packing. She was sleepy, but her eyes would shut, and fifty thousand red flags would go off and alert her that there was something more than needed to be done. Harry was had flown out after they left their coffee date, having a meeting in Canada the following evening. He was going to stay there for a while and work with some of the clients that he didn’t get as much face time with.

Just as she was about to fall off the cliff of consciousness, the slight buzzing of her mobile jolted her back into reality and she blinked a few times, angry that she was fully awake and not even close to sleepy.   
The number was unknown. She picked it up and murmured,

“Hello?”

“Can’t sleep,” the voice was unmistakable, and immediately brought Elle to her senses. “Too excited.”

“Tom?” she asked, though she knew perfectly well it was him.

“Come over… I thought of something that could inspire my fans to keep up with the trip.”

She loathed herself for not giving a damn what time it was. She drove her car, and had reached the address that was so close to her it was a miracle they hadn’t bumped into each other sooner. When she arrived at the address that he'd texted her, she found his house situated between two brick buildings, separated by a tiny white fence. She hardly had any time to properly look at the cozy little home before Tom came barreling out in a blue jumper and jeans. He wore black socks on his feet and his longer auburn hair had been recently cut and now it appeared to be a light brown. A dazzling smile stretched across his mouth as he saw her, and she rolled her eyes wondering why on earth he hadn’t thought to call Luke. Because Elle was handling the Guinea publicity. She’s helped him devise each and every twitter announcement, picture… everything. That’s why he called, she reminded herself sharply. 

“Hello,” he greeted cheerfully. She said nothing, and he chuckled deeply, quickly meeting her at the gate and allowing her in. Being in such close proximity, she could smell Tom’s unmistakable masculine scent, and as she took the liberty of walking straight into his home, the scent overwhelmed her entirely. To her left, a small little coat rack housed his beloved winter jacket she’d seen him floating around London in, and almost every time they met. Next to it a leather jacket that appeared equally loved.

“Here, let me,” he insisted as he shut the door and she began to shimmy out of her dark green coat. He captured it as she let it fall from her grasp, and hung it up while brown eyes roamed, in clear fascination. 

Entering the sitting room, there was fireplace, unlit, and two large over stuffed chairs. Elle was shocked to have noted that much, because all of the books overwhelmed her greatly. Walls lined with lovely books. A small bay window made her smile when she thought of the home they’d bought together and how she’d often find his great big frame, smashed up reading in the window. He loved to watch things as they happened; even if it was just street ruckus. 

She walked through the halls and noted the odd piece of art, and grinned at Diana’s influence over her son. The next room she found was the living room. There was a massive television hanging on the wall, and shelves like the room before, except these were lined with DVD’s instead of books. Those also made her think of those rare evenings they would cuddle together on the sofa and watch the odd film. She would lay her head in his lap and he would run his fingers through her hair until she fell asleep. 

If only she’d had that tonight.

His kitchen was very quaint and English. Red brick walls and a teakettle on made her chuckle. She didn’t venture beyond the hall where she knew his bedroom was. He’d been on her heels the entire time, watching her as she roamed his house unabashedly. It felt amazing to be in familiar company who didn’t feel rigid or uncomfortable in front of him. 

“Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” she answered, following him into the kitchen where the kettle hissed. She took a seat at one of the wooden stools around a small table and noted the framed piece of Thor print. Her eyes crinkled in amusement, and this time he dared to comment on it.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m relieved that there are no pictures of you at premiers and stuff.”

“That’s all in my bedroom,” he joked with a soft chuckle. Her eyes rolled.

“You know that you’re insane, right? It’s nearly midnight.”

“You are the one who got out of bed, love… not me.”

“You said you had something. Where the hell is Luke anyway?” Elle demanded suddenly, not so keen on his smug attitude.

“On a date. He won’t be seeing Richard for a week, you know? They’re recent lovers and absolutely inseparable.”

She nearly gasped.

“I would have never thought!” her face blushed scarlet red, “not that there is anything wrong with that… Luke’s a very nice guy. Very talented.”

“Darling, I’m teasing. Fetch the milk, will you?”

“None for me, thanks,”

He turned around, looking confused. Clearly she understood that he took none himself. 

“Since when?”

“Since I can’t fit into half of my pants, Tom. I’ve been so busy the gym is an afterthought.”

He snorted somewhat angrily and marched to the fridge, yanked it open, and took out the milk.

“You have not gained weight, Elle. Are you insane? You’re getting fucking milk,”

“Bossy cow,” she muttered, springing up from her seat and coming to stand alongside of him as he stirred the perfect amount of tea in her cup before adding the water. Milk always came first for her.

“You sound more English every time I see you,” he remarked fondly, presenting her with the cuppa. He picked up his own freshly made cup and took a long drag, eyes focused on her. 

“I’m a citizen, what can I say…. So, what was the idea that you had?”

He grinned mischievously,

“Come.”

They walked down the hall, and just off of a guest bathroom, was a small, nearly empty guest room with no bed, only a suitcase and scattered things surrounding it. It was his kit for Guinea. He had stacks of everything in little piles, and she nearly squealed in excitement.

“I thought it might be cool to film some bits that I’m taking with me.” His eyes shimmered hopefully, seeking approval for the idea, and Elle nodded her head up and down.

“That’s smart… do you want me to film it?”

“Yes!”

A few moments later and Tom, in his blue jumper, with all of his excitement, was talking about anti-malaria tablets, biscuits, and his beloved head torch. It only took Elle a few takes, and Tom teasing her intermittently calling her a ‘rubbish’ camerawoman. When they’d complete three short clips and uploaded them, they sat Indian style sorting through his stuff. 

“I can’t believe you still have this sweater, Tom,” Elle laughed, indicating a black and red one that he’d worn religiously when they were dating. He shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t much of a shopper.

“My wardrobe really hasn’t evolved.”

“Trying to hold onto that?” it came out of her mouth before she could rethink it, and she instantly felt bad. “Sorry, that sounded bitchier than I meant.”

“It’s ok,” he soothed, his voice warm as he stretched back on his fists. “You’re right… I never intended for it to be this crazy. It’s the best time and the worst time… I don’t even really have a life any more.”

Elle felt terrible right then, because she wasn’t sure how to comfort him. She could see that he was obviously hurting. Tom was very private and loved his friends and family very much. With all of the havoc that his fans had caused recently he had been driven to a stage smile point where he couldn’t help but need to conceal himself.

“I feel like a fucking cockhead, you know? They want me to sign this and that…. Sometimes I have to say no.”

“You can’t say no,” Elle chided in a soft voice.

“You’re right. When I see that people have stood out in the pouring rain for hours, its hard… but then the hacking and all of that. It drives me insane.”

“You were hacked?”

“Very recently, in fact. I had had to shut down my Facebook.”

“I wouldn’t peg you for having a Facebook.” She returned, sipping her tea.

“I’m on the go 24/7, Elle. It was a way of sharing me with my loved ones. They take the real brunt. My mum doesn’t even get to see me that often.”

“She is so proud of you, Tom…her eyes glow whenever she talks about you.”

His head tilted down, a shy smile forming on his lips.

“She’s mentioned that you’ve had tea together. That’s nice… maybe we could all go out for dinner when we get back.”

Elle swallowed uncomfortably, toying with a bag of cookies. 

“I want to be friends, Elle… I didn’t just fall in love with your heart… I fell in love with your mind, too.” His eyes were pleading. “I need those things desperately, now.”

“My heart or my mind?” she asked, heart hammering as she pushed off of the ground, leaving her teacup on the small table where it had rested. “This was stupid. I shouldn’t have come here.”

He was up, too, before she could even exit the room. He caught her wrist.

“You’re not running out of here because of me… let’s get that straight,” He growled, “You’re running out of here because you are very much still in love with me, Elle.”

“Fuck off, Tom!” she bit out angrily, her voice losing a few octaves. “I came over here on business and hoped to leave as your friend. I thought we’d reconciled. I wanted to know you again.”

“I can’t look at you without remembering how fucking madly in love with you I was.”

“Then why didn’t you come after me?” she screamed, turning to face him. Close to the foyer now, she stayed perfectly still, embarrassed by her outburst, and looking blindly at a shocked looking Tom.

“You were so hurt,” he whispered after several long moments of stunned silence. His eyes were sad as if he was living that memory, “for almost six months I watched the woman that I loved sink away… when you told me that you were going to leave, I was fucking hysterical. I’d lost—“ he chocked, still unable to acknowledge that loss in her presence, “I couldn’t lose you, too”

“So why didn’t you run?” she cried, beyond the point of humility now, feeling safe from judgment because this was Tom, her Tom. An ugly sob escaped her throat and made his insides burn with devastation for her. “I wanted you to come after me and say that it was going to be ok…”

“It wasn’t. We lost a child, papillon. Nothing was ever going to be the same. We had to relearn what it meant to be ok.” He came closer, his voice lower, “We had to rebuild. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was lost and frightened. You were my constant. I got up every morning for you… I prayed that one day I would roll over in bed and catch you staring at me… or cursing in the kitchen because you burnt something… anything that bore a semblance to the woman that I loved so unconditionally… the woman that I still love unconditionally. But you were never there. That evening that I came home I was prepared to plead with you. But there was something different. You looked alive again, and when I realized that was because you were leaving, I hadn’t a clue how to cope.”

His words were so honest.

“You could have had me at the door, Tom.” She sobbed, “I wanted you to stop me… to hold me.”

“That’s the thing,” he whispered, tears in his own eyes, “I needed you, too. I was a very broken man. I needed you to cling to me. I needed to trust you with all of my pain, and for you to trust me with yours. I still need that,” his eyes shut as the first tears fell, “come… I want to show you something,”

She couldn’t make choices for herself beyond that point, as they entered his bedroom. Tears blurred her vision, and were hot and fat as they fell down her cheeks. Her crying was silent, and ceaseless. He stopped at his nightstand, and reached inside the wooden drawer, and pulled something out, and then turned back to her so she could see. 

“Oh, god,” she sobbed as she saw the two little pink socks, the ones that he’d clung to after Nora died. “Oh god!” she screamed. Her legs gave out under her and she fell to the floor, a weeping mess. Tom’s knees hit the ground with a soft thud as he followed her, still needing to speak.

“I imagined that she would smell like baby powder and your perfume. I thought we might have called her munchkin or little one. I come home after a long trip, and it still kills me that I could never hold her… not even for a second. Not even a fucking second,” his anguish made him a pitiful mess. “I lost two girls, Elle. My mind didn’t work. I didn’t know how to run, and I didn’t know how to feel. My whole world had been torn away in the matter of a few months and I lost myself.”

“Tom,” she balled, finding the front of his shirt and pulled him forward. The instant magnetism caused his arms to wrap around her body so tightly that it suffocated her and provided everything that had been missing, “I’m sorry… it’s all my fault, I’m sorry,” she cried. “I ruined everything… I lost her, I fucking lost her, Tom.”

“No!” he growled at her, “don’t say that! You were in an accident. Someone crashed into you… you tried to protect her, but your body could only do so much, Elle…. Don’t blame yourself.”

He held her tightly and she sobbed into his chest with no reprieve. Her heaving became so frantic that he began to worry, and had to start coaching her breathing. His hands cradled her so gently and he murmured soft words in her ear. A soft tune began to float through his mouth before he could realize it. 

“Vous êtes mon soleil, mon soulement soleil…”

Eventually her crying stopped and he continued to hold her soundly, fingers digging into her back applying pressure and mumbling by her temple where his lips were situated.

“Do you remember our first massive fight?” she asked. After an hour of sitting in place, he was surprised to hear her speak. 

“Yes,” he answered mildly. She felt the vibrations through her face and hiccuped slightly. “It was about Othello,”

“How did we work it out?”

“I forced you to look at me… and then I told you that there was nothing that could hurt us both that making love in front of a fire place couldn’t resolve… then I laid you down, and I kissed you… and I couldn’t stop.” His voice crackled a little at the beautiful memory that he'd carefully stored inside of his heart.

“Will making love in front of a fire place resolve this, Tom?” she was so vulnerable that it made his stomach physically ill. He didn’t answer her; instead, he detangled, and left the room. She sat there with Nora’s socks in her hands and brought them to her nose. They smelled like Tom. She thought of what it must have been like for him to look at her little socks and feel the misery all over again. 

When Tom came back into the room, he held out a hand for her, that she took. He lifted her, with much ease, and with calculated steps, they came out of the bedroom, and walked towards the front room that was lined with books. Flames danced in Elle’s eyes, and she noticed the ‘pillow palace’ that he’d made for the both of them to lay on. 

When she looked up at him questioningly, she realized that she’d authorized this long before she arrived, and with that, she met his lips half way. His tears began to fall again as he clutched the small of her back closer towards him. He slid his hands under her shirt and found the bare skin that he sought contact with.

“I love you,” she breathed desperately as their lips came away, “I never stopped.”

He pulled her further into the room, and carefully, laid her body down in front of the fireplace. Untraditionally, he got rid of her jeans first, feeling the goosebumps rise in awareness as he traced the outline of her legs with his tongue. Butterfly kisses sprinkled her belly tenderly and obediently, as he stretched his long fingers out, she raised her arms and he pulled her top off, leaving her in her bra and knickers.   
Her hands covered her belly where the scar from her emergency C-section remained. She turned her cheek away, expecting ridicule, but instead, Tom gently moved her hands and kissed the scar length ways and showered it in affectionate attentions. 

“You are so beautiful, papillon. So beautiful…” his words melted over her and her eyes closed as the blissful sensations of the heat from the fire and the coolness of his lips overwhelmed her. 

When they joined together as one, soft cries came from both parties, ones of anticipation and need. Tom was a more defined lover now. He was confident in his actions as he clutched her closely towards him, holding her bum in the palms of his hands as he tried to make as deep of a connection as possible. 

Hanging on to every sigh, Tom pleasured her, and lost himself in the feeling of her body’s warmth and sweetness. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be home. Being sheltered inside of Elle’s body reminded him what love and protection felt like and he never wanted it to end. 

As their skin became slick with sweat, their collective cries and moans began to pierce the air. Elle raked her hands along Tom’s shoulder blades as he settled her into his lap, moving rhythmically, the sheen on her body increasing the momentum and causing him to cry out. His confessions of love were so rugged and honest; they held Elle’s heart in a vice as she tried to claim him in every way to make up for the missing seven years. Fingers lace in his hair as she completed, tears stinging her eyes, her stare caught onto his beautiful blue eyes, she gasped him name, and soon after, he became limp to her affection, gathering her up close in that attitude and holding her tightly, not giving a single damn about the exhaustion that was sweeping his body.

At some point, they found laid down, limbs entangled in one another, entirely sated and feeling protected. Tom’s body hosted Elle’s as she clung to him, trying to hold her in every way possible at once. He could still measure differences among her, and he knew that she was tired just then.

“Sleep, little bird.”

A small “O” formed at her mouth briefly as she yawned. Tom placed a tender kiss on her temple.

“You’ll have to fight for me,” she whispered sleepily.

“I know."


	14. Cry

Five a.m. had given the renewed lovers only two hours of sleep. Elle’s eyes blurred open groggily as Tom’s arms tightened closer around her body, cursing the foreign noise that disturbed their peaceful slumber. 

“What?” he mumbled thoroughly confused and disoriented.

“Your alarm!” Elle said, springing forward. Tom’s death grip was so tightly that he bounced forward with her, whether it was his intention or not.

“Relax,” he mumbled sleepily, “we don’t have to be at the airport for two hours.”

A small chuckle came from him as she fell backwards into the pillow palace and groaned. 

“I have to go back to my house… do you want to come with?”

“If you think that I’m letting you out of my sight for the next week, you, my love, are delusional.”

A tender smile graced her lips. She shifted to face him, the blaring of the alarm long forgotten. Her hand reached out and cupped his face.

“I love you, Tom Hiddleston,”

“Ditto,”

An enchanting smile lit her face at the joke between the two lovers, presumably forgotten with all of the time that had passed by. 

“Come on, then…. You can make me breakfast.” His barking laughter as she sat up, searching for something to wrap her nude body in, caused Elle to look down in skepticism. “What?”

“Like you’d have food at your house… I know we’ve been apart for a while, and things change, but, papillon, something’s never change.”

She smirked and quickly tugged his blue jumper over herself and stood, her naked backside making him swallow hard. She was so beautiful, especially in the starry glow of morning. 

“Lets have a shower and then we can have breakfast here…”

“We only have two hours, Tom…”

He stood, naked and proud, and in short strides, brought her much tinnier frame into his arms. 

“I just want to hold you a little longer,”

Melting at his words, Elle’s head came up and she pressed a kiss on his chin, meeting the stubble that had grown in. She loved everything about that moment. His sleepiness, combined with the way he smelled and felt was euphoric. The only thing disturbing them both was the alarm that was still blaring in the background. 

Tom made her breakfast after a quick shower. To his word, he did not try to get up to anything inside of the four tile walls, instead, he washed her hair, and her body, pressing sweet kisses against her skin as if to assure himself that she was real and last night had truly happened. 

She wore her jeans and Tom’s old Uni shirt that she’d often occupied when they lived together. It fit her better, making her frown. Tom scoffed her attitude as he went at turbo speed to make them oatmeal. They still needed to get back to her flat to pick up her suitcase. They ate in the packing room while he intermittently stuffed things inside of his bag, getting excited all over again. Not only was he going to participate in the project, but also he was going to be with the woman that he loved. There would be no distractions from the real world. Just them…

As they stood in the foyer, Tom helping Elle fasten her coat, she placed her hands on his shoulders and caught his eyes.

“I know that there are a lot of things that we still need to work out… but lets just let all of that go until we get back, ok?”

“Do you love me?” he asked quietly. She nodded. “The words, darling, I need to hear the words,”

“I love you, Tom.”

“Then I’ll wait forever if I have to…”

They arrived at her house and Tom called a taxi to meet them there shortly while Elle changed. He took his liberties of exploring her house, smiling warmly at how much thought she’d put into little details. Her walls were littered with self-taken photographs that he found enchanting. They illustrated her life without him, and he found peace knowing that she was happy. 

“These pictures are fantastic, darling,” he spoke honestly, travelling along the way until he reached her open bedroom door. She was slipping into a t-shirt and jumper when he entered the cozy room. It was dominated by her bed and wardrobe. He curiously looked around and noted on her dressing table, amidst her perfumes and makeups, she kept her jewelry, and hanging off of a dainty hand, was the bird necklace he’d given her eight years back. 

“I took them all…” she explained of the pictures, “I like the farm one, did you see that?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, that one was magnificent, darling… you have this?” In his palm he housed the locket and she quickly nodded.

“I could never get rid of that,”

“Wear it?”

She nodded, waking in front of him, turning around, allowing him access to her neck. He made quick work of fastening the piece, and as it settled against her taupe jumper, his insides settled, and he allowed himself to be content with the idea that she was his, and she wasn’t going to disappear suddenly. 

Just the same, as the cold metal hit Elle’s chest, she felt a breath of hope. There were so many fine details of their relationship that needed to be addressed, one of those things being that Elle had a boyfriend, but the familiar glow that Tom exuded told her that this was their chance again, and that destiny shouldn’t be tested twice. It was the feelings that Tom instilled within her that made her aware that this was it. They belonged to each other. Going through the strife they’d endured—losing a child they still mourned for, it deserved effort. 

This was it. 

Elle turned and captured Tom’s hands in her own, holding onto his long fingers, her chest pounding tightly and her cheeks burning.

“I came back to London hoping to slow down… to find a life that existed outside of work. Look where that brought me,” she sighed in a soft voice.

“Home,” Tom whispered, his mouth hovering above hers “it brought you home.”

He kissed her gently, delicately, his palm cupping her cheek. Afterward, he pressed his forehead against hers and said a silent prayer that he could keep her this time, because he was sure that if he allowed the vulnerability, his heart would not mend so well a second time. 

The taxi pulled in five minutes later, and with one final sweep, they departed, locking the doors, and saying goodbye to normality for the next week. In the cab, Tom talked to Luke on the phone, telling him that he’d shared a car with Elle, and asking him if he had instructions on exit. He’d been getting mobbed at the airport lately. The last thing he needed was to be spotted with Elle and have his fanbase and the media go insane. He needed to keep her all to himself for a bit. 

“He says that you should get out here and I’ll go out around back.” Tom told her with sad eyes. She grinned at his obvious worry.

“Tom, I work in PR… it’s not really a big deal. I really can’t risk being seen with you, right now, though…” the hesitation in her voice threw him off. His aqua eyes squinted at her skeptically. “We’re talking about stuff later, remember?”

“Elle,” he murmured, his voice becoming characteristically honeyed over with worry, “I can’t go through—that again. Don’t give me false hope for a week.”

She swallowed hard.

“I had no plans on last night ever happening, Tom. I didn’t expect that… my life was on a different course. I’m in a relationship. I was in a relationship, failing, if that makes you any happier. I’m pretty sure you figured that out, anyhow.”

“How the fuck would I have done that?” he asked, purely curious.

“Luke Windsor is your bitch, and he knows everyone’s business, including mine. Don’t pretend, Tom. You can’t lie to me.”

“I’m not mad,”

“You wouldn’t have had the right to be. I didn’t fall into your arms giving you the impression that I wanted something forever. We needed comfort, solidarity again… it was there and mutual. I’m not going to feel sorry that I had sex with you while in a relationship. I was blind last night to anything but you,”

Her passion was astounding, even when it was in a fervent whisper to conceal its context from the driver. Tom swallowed hard and his heart began to pump fast inside of his chest. Her words were very candid and he wasn’t sure where her priorities laid with him. He needed her. He didn’t want to share one beautiful night of reconciliation. He needed her like he always had needed her. To know that she was in a relationship made him sick to his stomach. Elle was correct, though. He knew about Harry, and he also knew that it was a strong probability that he was not a very faithful partner. It was a fact that made his jaw tick.

“You were right,” he says weakly. “I don’t want to have this conversation until we get back.”

Shrugging, Elle took his hand inside of her own and squeezed. 

“You’re supposed to be the one to reassure me, Tom. I told you that you’re going to have to fight for me.”

“Listen, darling, this is the rest I will say about this… if you had love for that man you’re seeing, you would have never made love with me last night. It was beautiful, and natural, and I am not trivializing it to be anything that it wasn’t or lesser than it was.”

Elle breathed deeply.

“No more…no more, Tom. You’re right, of course you’re fucking right, but I can’t think about how much wrong I’ve done when sleeping with you has felt like the only right thing I’ve done since coming back… and I just want to do it again, and again, and again…” she became breathless and Tom reached out a hand and held hers firmly.

“I’m so scared, Elle. I’m petrified that you will get into that head of yours and that you will think of five thousand reasons to leave me…”

Elle saw the sadness and terror in his eyes bear a truth to his statement. 

“Well then,” she murmured, picking up his hand, and placing a soft kiss against the knuckles, “you will have to help me think of ten thousand reasons to stay,”

They arrived and she hopped out, getting her back, and silently waving him away as she headed up the steps to Heathrow, the typical buzz making her feel skittish. She didn’t see any paps, and that was a good thing. She wanted this trips to be theirs. It wasn’t just about her and Tom, but it was also about Guinea, and all of the help that the locals needed so badly. Just the knowledge of that alone helped her to know that she would be able exist with this new old love. 

Inside of the airport, she found Luke Windsor waiting for her, an unreadable expression on his face. Elle tugged her bag along and approached him warily. 

“Elle, what’s going on here? I get a call from Tom saying that you’ve arrived together? Are you fucking mad?”

Oh, shit. She wasn’t expecting this.

“No!” she insisted, “of course not…” she looked around frantically for Tom so that he might rescue her from this ugly confrontation, but she saw him no where. “Luke, there are some things that you don’t know—“

“Damned straight. And should it be that way? No.” his voice was very firm. Elle’s eyes hardened against his. She was growing weary of his condescending tone.

“Despite what you think, you do not own Tom, and you do not need to be aware of every aspect of his life.”

“Ah,” Luke smirked, “so now you are apart of his life? I see…”

“Luke, go to hell.”

“Hey!” Tom approached us, a bit breathless, but with a warm smile. It took him only a few brief moments to figure out that something had just gone terribly wrong. Tom frowned, and looked at Luke expectantly. “Is everything ok?”

“Tom, I think you have some explaining to do.” Luke’s jaw went square as he stared Elle down. 

“He doesn’t have to explain anything to you!” Elle hissed. 

“Whoa,” Tom said, placing a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. “Deep breath, darling.”

“Darling!” Luke admonished, “Right, this has gone way too far—“

“Luke, shut it!” Tom warned, trying to still his upset lover. Elle yanked herself from his grasp and headed off for the terminal, bag rolling her bag with her, hair bouncing angrily. He stared for a few moments, enamored by her temper, but then looked back at his friend and publicist expectantly.

“Well done, mate. Thank you!”

“What? I should be the one scalding you! Fucking around with a publicist. It’s a nightmare waiting to happen.”

“I’m not fucking around with her!” Tom bellowed. Luke’s head popped up quickly, surveying their surroundings and quickly shot Tom a glare before pulling him into the check bag line. 

“Keep your fucking voice down,”

“Listen, Luke. You’ve got the wrong idea entirely… can we have coffee? Is there time?”

_________________________________________________________________

 

It was on their second cup of coffee, that Tom began to fully divulge the extent of his and Elle’s previous relationship. Luke listened as the tone of his friend’s voice became sparse and he suddenly felt so bad. The guilt overrode the surprise and his belly clinched together as Tom spoke of the baby they’d lost at nearly seven months. Nora, he caught the name. 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, raking a hand through his hear. He stood, “get up, Tom,”

Luke’s embrace was a crushing force and Tom appreciated it just then.

“We’ve got a chance, Luke… I need her. I need Elle.” His anguish was apart. Luke sighed deeply, nodding his head.

“Well I’m sure she hates me now… but I’ll do everything I need to so you both are safe for a while… I’m so sorry… I’m a fucking prick.”

“Yes,” Tom laughed, “but if it makes you feel any better, she is very liberated and free in her speech,”

“She’s fucking beautiful, Tom. She’s honest and pure… that’s so rare.”

“Well she thinks you’re a peach,” Tom muttered darkly. Luke couldn’t help but grin at this. “I’ll make her love me.”

“Good luck. She’s a stubborn little thing.” Tom raked a hand through his hair, “I don’t even know where we’re going with this… she’s got a boyfriend. She seemed committed to me after we reconciled. I just don’t know. We’ve agreed to settle down and talk about things after the trip. She has so much love for this mission, mate, it’s wonderful.” Tom smiled to himself, “what do I need to do now to protect us?”

“Don’t be seen with her… no cafes, no outings… I’m going to bench her for six months before we do anything publically. Tom,” Luke’s brown eyes became very shifty and worried, “you know the base is going to hit the wall about this. Is she ready for that?”  
“We haven’t really discussed the base yet. She’s in publicity, for Christ sakes… I would be surprised if she wasn’t aware.”

“As hard as it’s going to be, I’m going to have to ask you to behave yourself on this trip, Tom. Don’t go snogging her in public.”

Tom looked annoyed with this bit of guidance.

“We’re lovers, Luke. Rekindled ones at that… I’m sure you don’t realistically think that you can keep me physically away from her…”

“No, and I’m not asking you to stay away from her… just don’t draw extra attention to yourself. When we’re on camera, then it’s a complete no-no… remember, you are the one who wants to protect the relationship a bit, right? Right. We’ll have a meeting together about accommodations just as soon as she cools off.”

Tom smirked.

“Don’t hold your breath on that being any time soon.”

“Fuck me.”

________________________________________________________

 

When Tom got to the loading gate, his slipped his lover a coffee, and then went to Lina who was passing out itineraries. He knew very well that Luke was going to keep their schedule, but at the same time, he needed to honor the promise that he’d just made to his publicist. 

When he had a chance to slip away to the loo, he decided to phone her,

“You’re calling now?” was her dry reply after he spoke into the line.

“Luke is sorry, darling, monumentally… he says that we can’t be seen in public settings like this, though… to protect us from the fanbase.”

“Yeah, I forgot you come accompanied with an army of fucking psychos.” 

He actually chuckled.

“Yes, I do. Most unfortunate. I didn’t want to have to bring this up so soon, but it is something that I come with.”

“Thomas,” she began playfully, “are you bringing conditions?”

“I am,” his lips curled, “I phoned you up because I don’t want you to think that I’m so arse who gets his kicks ignoring his lover,”

“I love the way you say that word,”

Tom purred,

“That’s what I am, papillon, I am your lover… and I intend on proving that every chance I get…under our mosquito net, in our steamy little room.”

“You’re certainly using the pronoun ‘our’ a lot, sir. Perhaps you should see if your babysitter will even allow us to board together first.”

“Luke can sod off. I’m sleeping with you. Even if we don’t make love… I need to hold you… to know that everything that has happened is real.” 

“I want to kiss you right now. Badly.”

“Tell me you love me instead,” he requested. Elle shut her eyes, a dreamy smile lighting her face.

“I love you, Thomas William. Always have, always will.”

“I’ve waited almost seven years to hear that, but you know what, darling? I always knew I would… we were destined to find each other again…”

Elle felt a bubble in her heart nearly burst at his confession. He’d waited for her. He knew that one day, she would come back for him, either by choice or accident, and they would both realize that it was impossible to eradicate love like theirs. 

“If I don’t hang up right now, I’m going to stalk this entire airport down until I find, and kiss you… Tom…. I love you. I love your curls, and your eyes, and how secure you make me feel. I love that you love me even after everything that happened. I love you.”

“I’ll hang up then,” he sounded a little breathless and dazed. The line went dead, and Elle grinned to herself, biting her bottom lip as she stared out the window, looking at all of the planes touching down and loading back up. The sky was streaked with oranges and grey hues. It was beautiful. London felt like home to her now, and finally being back with Tom made her heart feel whole.

Thinking about Harry made her feel remorse. She’d never meant get involved with him and then dive headfirst into a relationship with Tom. She didn’t expect feelings for Tom to rekindle. She never expected him to still think of their daughter the way that he had. Every part of it was so surreal. All of the aches and pains that she’d tried to keep at bay came back to the surface and made her heart feel like bleeding all over again. But this time she wasn’t bleeding alone. Tom was with her. 

“…Boarding now,” Sophia’s voice sprang Elle from out of nowhere and terrified her employer. A loud screech made the assistant laugh recklessly, her perky morning après-caffeine attitude making Elle a little grouchy. She glanced around and saw Tom and Luke in cumminicado with Smith Jepson and studiously looking at the screen of Tom’s phone. 

She heaved her bag up with her latte and took her boarding pass from her bag. Soph had tugged along a massive bag that made Elle stop dead in her tracks and giggle.

“What the hell is all of that?” she asked, a grin stitched on her mouth as Sophia looked back at her in horror.

“My stuff,”

“We’ll be gone for a week…” Elle tried to rationalize, a crocked smile forming. Sophia looked stressed out. “You’ve packed your whole flat!”

Sophia scowled at Elle as she poked fun, and they continued forward in the short line. They were first headed to Charles de Gaulle. They had a direct transfer on the runway, and afterward, the group was headed to Guinea. 

On the plane, the group sat first class. Elle was unable to help that she had worked to do, so she headed towards the center of sectioned off seating and found the table that was meant to be convenient for work. She buckled her seatbelt and watched as Sophia opted for a seat in the back, and immediately buckled in and found the niche of her neck pillow, and was fading fast. 

Elle sighed and leaned her head back, shutting her eyes, only opening them when she felt weight shift the seat next to her, and a seatbelt click in place. Luke Windsor, arsehole best friend of Thomas Hiddleston, had plunked himself down next to her. When she stared on in disbelief, he looked back, completely unfazed. His brows rose a bit, and he grinned in a friendly manner,

“All set to work I see?”

“Piss off, Luke.” Elle hissed with a condescending tone. Luke was not deterred though, he had an obligation to his friend and client to make things right with Elle. Boarding a tremendously long flight seemed the perfect way to do so. 

“I’ve made a commitment to Tom that you will love me by the end of this week. I know I fucked up this morning, but how exactly could you blame me? I was utterly out of the circle… I had no clue you lot had a past.” He paused, softening his voice, “I was never intending to come between the both of you. I think they love that you have for each other is magnificent. If anything he needs a girl like you… not one who goes bonkers at the sight of him or is in it for money.”

“He told you?” Elle’s quiet voice was telling of her vulnerability.

Instead of trying to find the right words, Luke outstretched a hand and laid it over hers, that were currently fidgeting. He expected her to recoil in disgust, but instead, her eyes lowered reverently and a peace washed over Luke. 

He decided to hold her hand for a few minutes.

“I love him, you know.”

“I know.” Luke responded, “He fucking loves you… so much. I didn’t think it was possible for him to be in a relationship for more than a month… it wasn’t. You’re the reason that everything had always failed for him.” Luke quickly realized the harshness of his words, “relationships, that is.”

A small, weak smile touched her lips.

“That’s good to know.”

_______________________________________________

 

Their first night in Africa saw Tom and Elle together, an affair orchestrated by Luke Windsor, newest ally of Elizabeth Blair. When they’d arrived, after a very long plane ride, they were sent straight off to their hotel rooms. Luke took Elle’s private room, and allowed her to bunk with Tom as long as they were incredibly discreet. Tom took it as a warning, and desired to be close to Elle and not have the privilege revoked by his publicist who was indeed, very keen on keeping their relationship private for the duration of her bench time. 

As Elle unpacked her suitcase, seated by the very old dresser, she kept stealing glances at Tom who was beginning his blog of first impressions. He was very focused on his task, light still shining in his eyes at all of the glorious things they’d seen on the bus ride over. It was still light when they’d landed. The three-hour bus ride had turned it night before they had a chance to properly observe Guinea’s beauty.   
Their very tiny room housed two twin beds, one dresser, a closet, and an attached bathroom that contained an open shower that poured water from a faucet and drained in a small hole in the ground. The accommodations were so true to the poverty the country faced, and it made Elle warm to know that it wasn’t being fancied up to meet their approval.

“You’re concentrating very hard over there,” she mumbled, finally having placed the last item of her limited wardrobe into the dresser. She was holding pajamas, a look of soft remorse on her face as she watched him. He was so innocent and loving. It reminded her of the days when he would read her Shakespeare and make her afternoon tea without being asked. She remembered how he would talk to Nora before she started moving around Elle’s belly. He would ask her if she wanted to be a ballerina. Thinking about all of the love he had right then made her feel guilty.

“Why do you look so sad?” he asked, sitting up and closing his computer down. He stretched and watched her as she walked from the dresser to the bathroom, quickly disappearing. Once she was safely inside, she steadied herself against the wall, breathing deeply. She wondered how long it was going to take before this all passed and she was able to love him freely once more. 

An entrance followed a soft knock, and Tom stood there in front of her, navy sweatpants and light blue t-shirt clinging to his recently toned body. His curly hair was mused, slightly longer now, but still shorter than she was accustomed to. 

“Hello, you.” He murmured quietly. His hands settled on her shoulders and gave a firm rub, making her groan slightly with the pleasure of it. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s hard to look at you, Tom.” She whispered honestly, “All I can think is about is what I did to hurt you, and I can’t handle it…”

“Oh, no…” he whispered, his voice very soft and smooth against the harsh silence of the room, “Darling, turn around and look at me.”

She did, slowly chancing the prospects of meeting his eyes. He was very warm and genuine. He said nothing, simply thumbed away a stray tear and smiled at her.

“I love you not because of the way that you dance with my angels, but the way your name can silence all of my demons.”

His mouth muffled a soft sob as he kissed her sorrows away, bringing her into his arms, trying to eradicate the self-loathing she tortured herself with. Tom’s kiss was tender. His fingertips glided against her skin and when he released her, he tipped his forehead against her own.

“I love you,” he breathed, “and for the rest of my life, I want to love you. Forever.”

Her crying became happy as he kissed her again, fingers slipping inside of her shirt, dancing over her soft skin before pulling it over her head and throwing it to the side. He continued his exploration as her teeth dragged over his bottom lip. Her own hands quickly rid him of his shirt, nails raking over the abs, counting them in her head, one by one. 

Tom quickly picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist and set her on the sink, stripping the rest of his clothing, then feasting his eyes on his girlfriend. He rid her of her remaining clothing, piece by piece, admiring all of her beauty. He’d missed her softness. Last night when they’d made love, it was the first time in a very long time that he was able to feel his whole heart again. 

He quickly turned the faucet of the shower on, adjusting the temperature, and then bringing her to it, showering her body in affection as water spilled over them. They grasped, and tugged, and joined together so intimately that it felt like a sacred ritual rather than sex. Small, breathy pants could be heard by each other, but nothing more, not wanting to have privileges revoked because their passion got out of hand.

Afterward, they soaked the mattress with their wet bodies, too tired to dress, or even dry off from their intimate shower. It would be the first night she fell asleep in his arms feeling like everything was going to be ok. Tom wasn’t content until she was entirely molded against his body. He weaved his legs between her own, and squeezed her tightly. 

“What would I need to do to keep you naked for the rest of our lives?” he mumbled sleepily.

“You couldn’t take me anywhere.” She returned, her mind so wrapped around the multiple orgasms she’d just experienced in the tiny bathroom, his hands pressed over her mouth to keep her quiet as they rocked into an oblivion of pleasure. Tom still knew her body just as well when he was discovering it as a young man. He seemed much more refined as a lover.

“Contraire, papillon,” he growled playfully, “I would take you everywhere.”

“Tom, you are insatiable,”

“You are my weakness.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” she said.

“You never could after we made love. You get adrenaline.” He shifted so that her head was lying against his chest and his hand cupped her shoulder. Elle listened to his breathing, counting as his chest rose and fell. “Tell me about your adventures,”

“Which ones?” she laughed.

“Any.” He sounded tired. 

“I lived in Chile for a while. I had lived in a penthouse suit before…”

“Go you!” he admonished.

“It was a part of a contract and I lived there for six months. It was stupid… I felt like an asshole.”

“I’m sure you were just being noble.”

“We’ll see what you think after your time here.” She told him, “When you see poverty… it makes luxury disgusting.”

“If it pleases you to hear, I have no desire to live in a high rise.”

“What’s your dream, Tom?” she asked airily, pushing up on his chest to see his face. He smiled shortly, hand reached up to dust wet hair from her face.  
“Silly girl… it’s never changed.” His nose nuzzled her, exhaustion pouring through his veins, “you are my dream.”

“You are still as poetic as you ever were. Tell me, if you were to have me, what would our future look like?”

“Oh, it would be very happy… very yellow. I think a house in London would be nice. Close to Kings Cross so that if we ever felt spontaneous enough to just up and go, we could…” he trailed off as he spoke of what he would want, thinking about all that was included. He wanted Elizabeth to be his wife, not just his lover, and one day, sooner rather than later, he wanted to try for another baby. 

It hurt him just to think about it.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked after several moments of being quiet. She nodded her head against his bare skin. “I’ve never wanted a true future with anyone else… I’d never thought of it, at least. It’s always made me feel quite sick. Despite all of the glitter that now surrounds me, my ambitions to be a husband and father still exist.”

“But only with me?”

“Only you, Elle. I want you to be my wife. I’m not asking you to marry me right now, but any relationship that goes beyond Guinea will involve a marriage, that is an insurance policy for my heart, Elle.” He sighed deeply, “I don’t want to go back to this place of self-loathing where you feel that you owe me anything. I want to go back to the start where we got mad at each other for stupid things and ran straight into each others arms moments after, unable to bear the separation.”

“But as a wife,” she clarified.

“Yes. I focused our entire passed relationship on making you comfortable that I lost my own ambition. I’ve wanted to be a husband for a long time. Before I met you… Then after I met you, I only ever wanted to be a husband to you.”

“You clung to that so hard.”

“I’m still clinging. Tell me what you want, darling.”

Elle’s belly felt wobbly and nervous and he swept his hand up and down her naked torso. She thought about all of the time that they’d been together. They had been through so much in the three years they’d dated. They were both young and full of love to give. There was something about that time that could never be replicated, but never forgotten, either. A part of her wanted to go back.

“I never wanted our baby to die.” She said, two twin tears dripping down her face. “I wanted to watch you be a father to our girl,”

He hugged her closely, gripping her too hard, but not willing to stop unless she asked him to. 

“How selfish is that?”

“Oh, not selfish at all, my darling. I prayed for everything to be a horrible dream… I prayed that one day I might wake up and hear her crying. But do you know what? I realize that something in the fates aligned and that’s what took her… and after awhile, it’s ok. Do you get that, darling? It’s always been ok,”

She nodded tearfully, understanding that Tom was the only man she’d ever allowed herself to weep in front of. He was the only one that knew the extent of her pain, and she was pretty sure that she could gamble at the fact that she was the only one who knew his.

“I want to be your wife,” she told him, “and I want to have a baby.”

Tom began to cry with her, and soon enough, they cried themselves to sleep.


	15. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting this out rather quickly, so please excuse the errors! Xx.

Their first official day in Guinea found Tom and Elle both equally emotionally exhausted, but very happy. Luke had come to collect Tom that morning, and gave Elle a knowing wink as she kissed his scruffy cheek and told him that she’d see him later. 

‘Remember perspective, darling,’ she murmured by his ear. ‘It’s everything.’

Luke sighed in humble agreement, and then promised that he would set it up so that Tom would be tired enough to eat dinner in his room and fall straight asleep. Elle winked at Luke and then got ready herself. 

Today she was going to speak with the house reps and try to put together a tentative schedule for the UK’s mission bases. It was an unpaid, pet project of hers, but she was so passionate about it, she refused to let it go in lieu of other work. She’d not mentioned it to anyone in fear of the reality check. She didn’t believe in starting small when it came to these sort of things. She believed in going big. The kids needed help, and being in this setting and atmosphere reminded of her that more than ever. 

Kahului, her trusted guide and translator met her at the hotel at eight sharp with a toothy grin, and a warm hug. He spoke French, which many of the locals did as well. Elle had learned a little, but not enough to speak as fast as she wanted. She could understand most of what was said, but once in a while she got stuck, and since they were only there for a week, she didn’t have time for stuck.   
“Good morning,” she told him brightly. 

“Bon matin, madam!” he greeted cheerfully, “Comment allez-vous?”

“Bein. Ca va?”

“Bein… good, you’ve been working on it.”

Elle snorted at the shorter dark man, and rolled her eyes,

“Hardly, Kay. It’s just a greeting.”

“Well, your accent is beautiful, Elizabeth. Keep studying.”

They rode into town on mopeds that gave her the chance to admire all of the beauty. When they arrived, little children swarmed around her as they were inclined to in these parts, and begged to be played with. She lingered for a bit before insisting that she had to go.

‘Tout suit!’

The home based ambassadors were lovely people that were always impressed with Elle, no mattered how humble she tried to be. They were intrigued by her genuine need and desire to help the mission, and when they sat down for a very long meeting that morning, there was nothing different. 

She explained the Tom situation, and how they were working on using his celebrity status as an endorsement for UNICEF Guinea. She explained that he had very loyal fans and that it would spread like wildfire once his own intentions were made clear to the world. All they needed was a bit of airtime, and good experiences to tenderize the man’s heart. Elle didn’t doubt that would be an issue.

She had lunch in a local mom and pop diner that severed very cheap, delicious food. Elle ate every bite and left a massive tip for the owners. The place did badly because they were at a more centralized location and pretty far from the touristy areas. She’d eaten there before and her heart did a summersault of gratitude when she noted that it remained there still. 

After lunch she met with Sophia and headed into another conference, this time via Skype back at the embassy, shortly after meeting the governor. Her notebook was brimming full of information and schedules. She wished, looking over things, that she’d been better about leaving more time in her schedule opened. Sophia gave her a look of apology several times as she had to turn down significant invitations, and give her a gentle reminder that she had other clients that deserved her, too.

But being there in Africa made her want to say ‘fuck it’ to her regular clients. Didn’t they understand how bad it was here? Babies were dying, children were going to be hungry, and poor mothers were helpless. That should have trumped everything that life had to offer, clients included. It all became so mundane, and she quickly became frustrated. They talked in circles for several hours before it finally became time to leave. 

Back in the jeep, their new method of transportation, Elle released all of her anger with her equally upset assistant. Sophia was always good for mirroring her boss’s attitudes. The thirty-minute ride was not spent appreciating beauty, but talking about Decarlo Rue and why he needed to schedule her so often for events that he was not first named at.

When they arrived back at the hotel, a buffet style dinner was going on. She glanced around in the dining hall, looking for her lover, but only finding his publicist who gave her knowing eyes. She sighed and began to make herself a plate, and stacking up on pudding. 

“I’m heading up for the night. I’m tired and pissed off.” She told Soph. The girl smiled sympathetically at her and nodded.

“Of course. Tomorrow we are scheduled to oversee Tom’s shoot, so just make sure you dress comfortably, because we have no idea how long it will take.”

“Ok, thanks.”

She took the stairs, feeling grouchy, and found their room. As she opened the door, the smell of hotel room immediately assaulting her, and her man nowhere in sight. Her shoulders slumped, and she set her to-go box down a moment, and kicked off her shoes, groaning in the ecstasy of dropping down her glamour and morphing back into her true identity. 

“Darling,”

Her eyes closed quickly, and she said a sweet prayer to god in thanks for that man that she was so lucky enough to have. Warmth filled the tiny room, and she realized that he’d come from the balcony. 

Finally Elle reached him, and even with her plate of food in hand, she hugged him tightly, remembering that this was ok, because he was hers and she was his, and this is what people in love did, they cared for each other.

“That expression has seen better days, my love.” He concluded softly, pulling back and dusting a wisp of hair from her face. Since seeing her back at the gala, her hair had grown a bit, and he was looking forward to watching it get longer and longer, a testament of the length of their relationship.

“It makes me ridiculously happy that I can come home to this.”

“Home?”

“Mhm.” She continued to hug him tightly. “Let’s eat and talk. I just want to eat and talk.”

They set up on the balcony that was surprisingly private. Tom sat across from her and told her in colored excitement all about his first day and how thrilled he was to be there with the children. Elle watched as his expressions changed from happy, to excited and looped around in such blissful positivity that she had no choice but to crack a small smile when he began to tell her about these adventures. She slowly started to forget her own troubles that had made her so moody and distant. 

When she finally got around to telling him about the meetings, her crankiness had drifted away and she highlighted some of the positive aspects of the conferences. What was even more astounding to the tiny woman was her companion’s genuine interest in what she had to say. Not to call her work boring, but more often then not, it inspired sleepiness in those who heard about it. It didn’t seem to plague Tom one bit, and that left a small blossom of satisfaction inside of Elle. 

They shared pudding and afterward, Tom gave her a foot rub that made her curse heaven and hell both, leaning back oh her elbows as his fingers worked their magic into her skin. They were chatting aimlessly, talking about how Sarah was doing in India. Tom explained that Yakov, her fiancé, was lovely and that he’d been to visit them just a year or so back. He explained that the heat was terrible.

“I love the heat… it’s wonderful.” 

“Yet you live in London,”

She smiled and mused quietly.

“Home is where the heart is,”

Tom’s eyes wrinkled up in a delicate smile and he glanced down distractedly at her feet that he was now rubbing in tandem. 

“Elle, darling, I’ve been thinking about something today… you know the poverty story. You bore your heart to me that you hate yourself when you return because of all of your things… Fuck, it appears that I am not very articulate today, then.”

“Go on… you’re doing fine.”

“You’re forgiving,” Tom smirked applying hard pressure to one of the points in her foot. She gasped in pleasure and he was nearly distracted by the sound enough to stop, “Well, in this relationship, we’re a bit backwards. We’re not just starting out. We’ve done a lot together in our three years… we were expecting to be a family and had started to plan lives together…. What I am getting at here is just that with us being so close already, I think it’s fucking ridiculous to live apart. We already know that we make good flatmates… and I’m going to pack a bag and move in with you one way or another, so why not come and live with me?”

Elle laughed. It was so much like the time that he’d asked her to become his girlfriend so long ago. He was so terribly nervous and awkward. To know that it translated into his mature adult life brought tears of mirth into her eyes as she laughed hysterically. Tom’s jaw squared, prepared for this, understanding it was in her nature to be like this, but it was still highly irritating to him.

“Will you stop laughing!” he demanded, shoving her foot away in a huff. “it’s annoying, Elle.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” she giggled, attaching herself to his arm in a puddle of laughs before he could storm out on her. “Aw…Tom, come here, please…” she finally wrestled her way into his lip while meeting his resistance and sighed in satisfaction once she was settled, and finally in control over her giggling. “Alright, so essentially you want me to live with you?”

“Correct,” he said curtly.

“You want me to move all of my stuff?”

“Not your sofa. And it would probably be ridiculous to bring another bed…”

“Maybe we should buy a new bed… I’m not very content with the idea that there have been other woman sleeping with you in that one.”

“Touché, baby.”

“Ok. No bed,”

“Just pack up all of your female, girly things and come on over. We can get Luke’s people to put your place on the market.”

“Are you in absolute denial that Luke’s people are mine too? We’re both publicists, Tom.”

He kissed her cheek and remained situated in that position for a while. 

“You’ll give me a moment to breathe when we go back home, right? You’ll give me a moment to talk to Henry?”

A small snort did not escape her notice as he scoffed at the idea of her protecting Henry’s feelings once again.

“Problem, Tom?”

“He’s fucking around on you!” Tom said, indignantly. Elle pulled back, and instead of seeing a look of shame, a broad smile stretched over her face and a small, squeal of delight pierced the air and she burrowed into Tom’s neck in order to stifle giggles. Tom’s fingertips pressed into her shoulder blades harder than intended for the sake of his shock. How could she possibly find that funny? “Elle, stop it. This is not funny, my love. Not in the least.”

“This is fucking perfect, Tom. Don’t you understand,” she pulled her face from his neck and looked him square in the eye, “I always had this feeling. I was never me with him. I wanted him so that I couldn’t want you. We started dating after the gala. I thought he would distract me and I wouldn’t want to run back to you.”

“That fucker.” Tom seethed, “touching what did not belong to him.”

“Tom…. Shut up. We’ve both had lovers…”

He lowered his eyes and she could instantly tell she struck a nerve. 

“What?”

“I wouldn’t have sex with anyone for a long time after… the first time, in fact was after getting pissed at a wedding. I was so fucking angry. I haven’t truly made love to another woman since you… there has never been the affection. I thought I might have been in love once.”

“Fuck, here we go. I get to hear about some famous fucking celebrity that was banging your every which way…” Elle rolled her eyes and crawled off of his lap. She stood, taking a moment to stretch before starting the clean up process. “I mean, I’m not an idiot. I know that I have no right to sit here and be angry or jealous—“

“Yes, you don’t… I wasn’t in love, Elle, because you fucked love up for me. I hurt so bad after you that I was afraid.”

“So all of your failed relationships have been because of me, is that what you’re saying?” Elle watched his expressions carefully.

“I was never in love.”

“Answer the question straight, Tom.”

“Yes!” he shouted, “are you fucking happy? I didn’t want to be in love with anyone else because I only ever wanted you… to love, to fuck, to marry. You, you, you. I’ve never been able to burn you out of my head. Never.”

Elle expelled a deep breath and shook her head, setting the debris in her hand down on a table before coming to a now standing Thomas and wrapping her arms around his midsection tightly, and hugging him close. 

Realizing the peace offering in the situation, Tom reciprocated and held her still for a few moments before they began to sway with one another. 

“We don’t have to go into the past that wasn’t Elle and Tom. I fucked up. I get it… but guess what, Tom. I never stopped either, and I am going to spend the rest of my life trying to make that up and prove it to you.”

He kissed the top of her head as they continued to move together.

“I’m sorry I yelled. I’m mad at myself if anything.”

“Why?”

“For every being stupid enough to try and love other woman. It was senseless. My heart always knew, and the heart is always right—mum too.”

“Diana?”

“Mhm. A few weeks after—you know, well, she stopped off at the flat and smiled at me through these big fat tears and said to me, ‘Only you can hold her.’”

“Your mom quoted Amy Winehouse?” Elle giggled.

“Yup. She explained though… she told me that as a bird, I had been the only person to ever capture you and make you want to stay. It was comforting.”

“Maybe that’s why she seemed so calm when we saw each other at the gala.” Elle mused as Tom played with the hair at her nape. “She talked about destiny. Is that what this is, Tom? Destiny?”

He laughed softly. 

“You realize looking back of our lives a few years from now we’ll never be as romantic as we are right now?” he nuzzled her hair, “The love is so fresh and wild.”

“Tom—lets go to bed now… we’ve put it off long enough.”

He tipped her mouth up towards his own and kissed her. Fingers lacing through her hair, Tom felt purpose like he hadn’t felt in the last few years as his fanbase grew and women became more and more interested in him. He felt like having Elle there in his arms, with every intention of making love, that there was a stronger purpose in life. 

They did not have crazed sex. He didn’t push her up against a wall and make her cry out in desperation. Instead, Tom was tender and gave the impression that he and this woman had been lovers for a very longtime. He knew all of the places that elicited excitement within her. He knew how to make her head rush and her toes curl deliciously. He could only hold her…

 

_________________________________________________________

 

The next few days of the trip were spent together in the field. Tom did his press work one morning, and then the rest of the time was his. He and Elle, however discreet Luke had wanted them to be, spent most of their time together crowded by the small village children, visiting houses, and learning about the culture on a deeper level. 

They met five-year-old Kladui, who held their hands and rode on Tom’s shoulder, screaming with joy. Luke was usually close behind, hands in his blond hair praying that no one noticed the blatantly in love couple. If he didn’t have a tender spot in his heart for the both of them, he would have demanded that one of them get a plane and go back home.

Luke and Elle had a mutual agreement, but they were both equally snarky with one another. Sometimes listening to their interactions scared Tom, because there was a fine line that they danced on, and both were very important in his life. Luke loved Elle, though. She made him laugh with attitude, and made him cry with her heart that was more tender than she let on. They bickered, but there was always certain warmth between both parties that even Tom couldn’t see. 

Luke thought she was good for him. He hadn’t seen Tom so genuinely happy due to love in a long while. Elle brought light into his eyes again. It became Luke’s main priority to keep the public out of their relationship. He knew very well that Tom wouldn’t be able to handle it if Elle were to become overwhelmed and leave him. It had happened before with a previous girlfriend and nearly broke Tom’s heart into tiny little pieces. Considering that he and Elle shared such an intimate past, he knew that he needed to put forth his best efforts to protect them fiercely. 

The days grew shorter in Guinea as their time drew to a near end. Elle shucked off the political aspects of the trip and fully immersed herself in the residents life. She did everything that they did; she ate with them, went to school with them, and even enjoyed lovely evening in their homes accompanied by her lover. He was very insistent on her personal safety, as was her secret bodyguard Luke Windsor. 

Tom jokingly called her busy bee and cried one night when a little girl was scalded for taking some of the biscuits that he gave her. Tom was so vulnerable to guilt, and that on top of the overwhelming emotions of the trip had escalated and wrecked him. It took her a good two hours of coaxing him into her arms that she was able to truly comfort her man. She whispered by his ear that was what daily life was like, and that they needed to wake up every morning and say a prayer of thanks for their biscuits. 

Perhaps the most emotion journey yet was the visit to the hospitals. Since Tom’s job was to explore and discover the problems and then feed his experiences to the media, he often travelled solo. Even Elle, who he enjoyed, visiting locals with, was not privy to all of the day trips he made. She couldn’t interlace their schedules that perfectly without thinks looking suspicious. On the day that he went to the children’s hospital, she had no clue what might have gone down, but when he got back to the hotel, he locked himself into the bathroom with his laptop for a long time, and she could hear the obvious sounds of his unmitigated misery. She’d tried to cajole him into letting her in, but he asked her very kindly to let him be for just a while. 

She couldn’t refuse that. 

Nearly tempted to go to Luke and discover what had happened, Elle sat on the edge of their tiny hotel bed and looked at her plate of dinner without any desire to eat it when Tom was clearly hurting so badly. She sighed deeply and set it aside, feeling tears prickle in her own eyes, the sheer depression of his sadness weighing her heart down. Guinea had been so emotional. 

In a final desperate attempt to console him, she stood from where she sat on the bed, and plopped down next to the bathroom down unceremonious, her circle skirt bouncing. With a deep breath, and a little trepidation, she began to sing,

“Vous êtes mon soleil, mon petite soleil…” she sang the bits that she knew in French before she switched over to English, her voice soft as the sobs he heaved receded and finally, the soft click of the door and a small bump on her head made her tip her eyes up towards the man walking out. Tom went and sat on the bed, and buried his face into the heel of his hands. 

“Tom,” she whispered softly standing and then falling to her knees in front of him, “baby, what is it?”

“I—I can’t, Elle… I –“ he kept tripping over his words, “so small and so many… oh, god, oh fucking god.” He cried. “I held them… the babies. I tried to hold them all but some were so fragile and sick. No one holds them, Elle! No one holds them!” his shoulders shook, and she knew that he was fastly approaching hysteria and that she needed to calm him down before something happened. She got up, despite the own heaviness in her heart, as she understood his pain, and slung and arm as far around his shoulders as possible and hugged him tightly. 

“Shh,” she soothed in a continuous mantra, “everything is going to be ok.”

“No it’s not. They are all dying, Elle. The babies are dying.”

“Tom,” Elle said sternly, her voice wobbling a bit as she struggled to maintain control, “We knew this would be hard. This was apart of the mission. It is apart of the suffrage. It’s our job to make people aware. Tom, you can’t save them all. You can’t.”

He was inconsolable. That night, he refused to eat anything, and laid in bed detached from Elle who waited worriedly beside him. Angry tears prickled down her face as he shifted and she realized he was still awake and still ignored her.

“I fucking hate you for this,” she whispered lethally, her voice now indicative of her tears, “I understand your pain, Thomas. I want to help it. I fucking know it, you ass hole!” she couldn’t help but lash out, “I fucking lived it. So how dare you act like this is your private hell? It’s mine too!” 

She laid on the opposite side of the wall, hot tears rolling down her face.

“I can’t stand to see you hurting,” she whispered. “I love you, Tom.”

“I love you, too.” He whispered back. Elle nodded to herself, a little bit more certain that things would be ok.

It was the first night in Guinea that the both clutched opposite ends of the bed in order to keep away from each other. 

The next morning they made love and cried for the babies. Together. Always together.


	16. Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, darlings. I know that this is completely and entirely false. The time line is all wrong. I'm collecting bits and pieces here and there and stitching them together for my story. This is not a depiction of reality. It's false and I don't own anything. Please put away torches and axes. Other than that, do enjoy. Xx.

When they returned to London, there was something about Guinea that had stitched them so closely together that it intimidated and frightened Elle beyond belief. Tom could sense the change and when he questioned her, she told him that she was just anxious about the coffee meeting she had scheduled with Henry. She didn’t tell him that the idea of becoming formally attached to him scared her like never before.

It also made her angry. She’d practiced such openness to him and his ideas in Guinea. She freely admitted that she wanted to marry him and eventually have children. It was the night that she was unable to reach him that she developed this phobia that they had a disconnect that was far greater than a few kisses and shags could mend.

Tom was terrified. The plane ride home, seated far away from Elle, he was scared that he was had changed her mind about moving in with him. He’d tried to talk to her before breakfast; she had suddenly become very vested in packing. Tom knew better than to raise the question of their standing right then and there, because emotions were high, and no matter how strong his little bird tried to be, he knew very well that she was threadbare and close to collapse.

At the airport, she informed Luke that she had an important meeting with Elle UK and was going to run home and change, then meet them both at Tom’s later that night to discuss some pressing matters. She didn’t leave Tom with anything more than a crinkly smile and the small bird necklace nestled against her chest, his old rugby shirt inconspicuously hanging over a pair of black leggings and a Union flag jumper swallowing her up. She was so cozy just then, and he wanted to cuddle with her.

But this wasn’t ten years ago where they cuddled their days away. They were both busy and needed to get back to work…

______________________________________________________________________

 

That night, after Tom put the finishing touches on a delicious bolognaise, Elle arrived with a smile and a box of apple tarts. She stood at his door, breathless from the exertion of the weather, now dressed in a pair of blue jeans and crème jumper with her hair in a strange stage of growing out again and flying all over the place. She was beauty and Tom pulled her inside, setting the box down and bringing her into his arms for a proper greeting kiss.

“I’m a bit selfish and I haven’t kissed you all day,” he pointed out.

She smiled and pressed her forehead against his, feeling slightly bad that he had to crane his neck to match her height.

“I’m a free woman, Tom.”

He immediately understood what she meant and a slow smile bloomed over her face, and he stepped away, looking slightly faux serious.

“Well then, I guess I have a pressing question for you. Elle, will you please be my girlfriend? So that I might once again know the pleasure of being cold at night because you hog the blankets, or cooking new things, because you’re a helpless chef… or doing all of the dusting, because it is a foreign concept in America?”

She grinned and he held her hands in his own, dwarfing her palms.

“Yes. As long as you, Tom, promise that we will have an open communication with each other, and that you will smile at me while you eat your food, and that no matter how much glitter Hollywood puts into your dazzling eyes, you will always realize that my curly haired, lanky man is always the most dashing and darling… nothing will _ever_ change that.”

He smiled softly, eyes twinkling in the light of the foyer.

“You did always love my hair.”

“ _Always_ ”

He kissed her to seal the agreement and then brought her into the kitchen, and sat her bottom on the counter before checking the different pots and pans that were littered on the stove.

“Wine?” he inquired, drowning a sip of his own.

“Please.” She knew that the meeting with Luke would go better if she was slightly tipsy. She’d also had a very trying day and wanted to unwind with her boyfriend. Her _boyfriend_. It felt insane almost to have reached that state again after so long.

Tom handed her a glass that she took appreciatively and sipped.

“When is your nanny coming?”

“Elle,” he warned, wanting to keep her and Luke’s relationship as amicable as possible, “please try, my darling. He truly likes you and apologizes for his misconceptions. He is very protective of me. Now _us_ ,” Tom clarified.

“Us,” she mused happily, “can I try that?”

Tom dipped the wooden spoon he’d been cooking with into the sauce and blew on it before holding it out for Elle to try. Her eyes closed in momentary satisfaction.

“Mmm. Delicious.”

“Thank you, darling. Are we going to yours tonight? Or are we staying here?”

“I don’t know… I’m really a little weirded out by that bed, Tom. How about you build us a fort and we’ll tell each other stories like the good old days back at Cambridge.”

His eyes softened.

“Ok. I’ll build us a fort.”

Luke arrived with a bottle of wine and pressed two matching kisses on Elle’s cheeks before hugging his friend in greeting. They took dinner in the adjacent dinning room and drank more wine with some senseless bramble to boot instead of diving straight into the hard stuff. It was far more relaxed then Elle had originally anticipated. Out of his job, Luke was very relaxed. Elle knew that she should have sympathized with him better because she knew how busy and hectic the life of a publicist was, but it was too easy for her to be defensive of her and Tom’s relationship.

“…So, Elle, Tom and I have been needing to make you aware of a few things now that you both are in it to win it,”

Tom shot Luke a warning glance.

“Darling, the thing is that I come with a lot of baggage these days…”

“Loads,” Luke muttered.

“I’ve had stalkers… ex-girlfriends harassed.”

“Not that they didn’t deserve to be,” Luke popped in with a wink towards Elle who appreciated the gesture. “Have you ever heard the term ‘star fucker’?”

“Yep.” She nodded, her smile tight. She looked from Luke to Tom, and noted the crestfallen look on his handsome face. She reached a hand under the table and squeezed his tightly and he smiled tenderly at her, grateful for the demonstration.

“Anyway, my sweet, the issue that we have is that I refuse to tolerate you being harassed in any way shape or form. If the press knew that we were in a relationship just after going to Guinea together, they would rip it to shreds.”

“I’m not understanding an alternative,” Elle spoke, now feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“We’re going to bench you go a while, Elle. As a safety precautionary for _you_.”

“Bench me? Please enlightened me as to what that fucking means, Luke.”

Tom covered his face with his hands, feeling the stress beginning to floor him.

“Fuck.”

“Benching you would mean that you wouldn’t come with Tom to any events, parties, or be seen with him in public with for a certain amount of time,” Luke tried to be gentle, but it was difficult as he say her growing annoyance. “If we just pop you out of thin air, the rebuttal could be catastrophic for the fan base.”

“Jesus Christ, Luke!” Tom angrily scolded, trying to comfort Elle with a squeeze of the hand to reciprocate her earlier gesture. She snatched her out of his grasp and look indignant and to the verge of tears.

“I didn't  _pop_ out of thin air. I refuse to play games where I’m picked apart by a bunch of little trolls who want to fuck Tom. I’m a grown woman, and I won’t have any of this.”

“Darling—“

“Tom, how would you feel if you wanted to go for breakfast on a Sunday and we couldn’t because I couldn’t be seen with you. You’d feel like shit, right? That’s what you’re doing here. You’re squirrelling me away like some secret and my only alternative is to be run into the ground. What’s the guarantee that it won’t all happen like that anyway if I’m _benched_?”

“There is none,” Luke said sadly. “Listen, darling, in _no way_ are we trying to hide you.” He sat back in his chair and sighed, “You’re so important to him and that means that you’re important to me, and the night that you cry tears because someone has unrightfully shamed you because of your attachment to Tom the celebrity… that’s not ok, love.”

Elle buried her face in her hands and thought hard, leaning forward, giving her boyfriend access to her lower back where he began to knead comfortingly.

“I think it could backfire, Tom. If one of my clients tried this, I would think of it as a publicity nightmare just waiting to happen.”

“Explain,” Luke asked.

“You have a relationship with these fans whether you like it or not. Appearing to be single and playing into their personal fantasies for an entire six months and then just pulling a woman out of thin air…no way. Those people _will_ eat me alive, but worst of all…they’ll eat you alive, too.”

“I don’t give a _shit_ about what they do or say to me. I don’t care about satisfying fantasies for young, silly girls… I care about _you_ , Elle. I want you safe and protected and happy.”

Luke rubbed his temple seeing both sides of the fence, but had to admit that there was a lot of sensibility in Elle’s words.

“Let’s try a different approach here,” he stated calmly after a few moments, “Elle, as a publicist, what would you have you do?”

“Luke,” she said sadly, “I can’t just morph out of lover mode and go straight into business. I want to support Tom, but I also don’t want people shouting at me over false lies… I would us to just be _normal_ for a while, and then start making public appearances…”

Tom’s arm slid around her waist, got a firm grip, and brought her close.

“I’ll take you proudly to Starbucks, papillon. And the theater, and anywhere you’d like to go.”

“Paris sounds nice,” she grinned.

“And India,” he chimed in, “for my sister’s wedding.”

“You both make me sick,” Luke joke, sipping his wine. Elle grinned at him, and finally felt a trickle of relief. “So, then we are going casual? Love is love is love is love?”

“Yes,” Tom agreed. “If any shit starts to go down, we’ll retaliate as harshly as possible. Fuck publicity. No offense, mate.”

“Alrighty then,” Luke laughed with big eyes.

They finished their pudding then Luke gracefully bowed out, allowing the couple to be alone. Tom suggested that they relax for a little while. He just wanted to feel her head on his shoulder, he said. She couldn’t resist the allure of quiet time with her man, so when he built them a fire, she willingly crawled up with him onto the window seat, and snuggled into his chest.

It had been a long week.

“It’s still a bit surreal to me, you know?” Tom whispered reflectively above her head, “I expect to wake up any moment now cold and lonely. It’s not normal to have it all… it’s not supposed to work that way. But then I remember the pain—it was so tense and horrific. I remember the pain and then think to myself that we deserve this.”

“If I hadn’t gone to the opening…” Elle trailed off, “you could be—no, I don’t want to play this game anymore, Tom. I just want to lay here and love you.”

“Elle, I need you. Today and all of the rest of the days in my life. Please don’t leave me.”

Elle tightened her hold on Tom’s waist and burrowed into his chest deeper, listening to his heartbeat.

“I was a fool,” she said, her voice muffled and quiet, “but rest assure that I am _never_ leaving you, Tom… you are stuck with me.”

They didn’t make love that night, just held each other loosely in their pillow palace, waking up at some point in the night, Tom running out to get a glace of wine and tarts, where they sat up and talked. They didn’t talk about the past and the hurt, but they talked about the future and the fact that they wanted to try again to have kids. Tom promised that this time they would be married before it was even a thought, and he was touched with Elle smiled at the idea, and grinned,

‘I think I am actually ready for that. Who would have thought?’

When Elle finally fell asleep, Tom stayed awake with a frantic kind of worry that was slowly building inside of him. Things had changed dramatically in his life. Since he began to make it, fans had become obsessed. They knew where he lived and what kind of car he drove. They all knew his favorite locals cafes. He had to put a restraining order out many times in order to protect himself. Now looking at Elle, his long lost lover, the single person on earth that he loved fiercer than anything else, he felt pain and terror rise in his belly about her nonchalant attitude towards what may happen if they were seen out together.

He wanted to protect her.

He _needed_ to.

________________________________________________

 

Love must have blinded her the first few months. Even the things that Tom noticed, Elle did not. When they were in lines, people took pictures and whispered frantically. On the Internet, he was harassed about the new Guinea girl. That was after the trip pictures came out. It got bad, and Luke couldn’t quarantine it and trace the stalkers. Tom was frantic at best, always on high alert and feeling so much stress consume him that he began to lose weight.

Then she noticed.

One morning while brushing her teeth, Elle watched Tom from the bathroom mirror as he got out of bed and stretched. He was nude from the waist up and he was thinner than he was during the reconciliation. That’s what they referred to that time period as. Reconciliation. The press for one of his new movies was coming on that, but he wasn’t working on anything major for a while, so for him to look so gaunt worried her.

She spit the toothpaste out and rinsed her mouth and when she popped back up, he was looking at her from the doorframe in the mirror a lazy smile on his face. It didn’t reach his eyes and her stomach felt more acidic then. Was she making him unhappy? She swallowed hard.

“I’m going to make tea. Would you like some?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, please. Are you sure you don’t want to relax a while longer? I can make tea and bring it up.” He murmured, catching her wrists gently and holding her at arms length, pressing a kiss against her temple.

“Tom,” her voice was soft and vulnerable.

“What is it, my darling?”

“You’re ok, right? Is everything ok?”

Tom’s brows furrowed together and he put space between the both of them so that he could see her face. She was distraught, her own expression fallen.

“Where’s this coming from? Hm?”

“Let’s have tea,” she murmured half-heartedly, brushing the question off as she detached from him and started on the path towards the kitchen. Most of his things were packed in boxes ready for the move. They’d found a beautiful home in Hampstead that had them both nearly weeping by the end of the tour. They were scheduled to move in two weeks after nearly three months of searching and living among each other.

Tom followed her into the kitchen, his suspicion and awareness rising that she’d perhaps become more aware of the situation brewing around the both of them. Luke had done well to clean up most of the major networking sites that she frequented, and he couldn’t imagine Elle googling herself, but it wouldn’t be extremely hard for a fan to message her directly.

“Elle, we’re a bit old for this now, yeah?”

She was famous for her way of spinning situations and sweeping them under the rug only to cause a volcanic eruption later on when stress claimed her sanity.

“I don’t want to make this bigger than it is… but I am a little worried about you lately.”

He was floored.

“Why?”

“You’ve lost weight and you don’t sleep still at night. You seem distracted all of the time. What is it Tom? Is there something I need to know?”

He stared her dead in the eye, blue irises making her nervous.

“What are you insinuating? An affair? Do you think I’m fucking someone else? Is that what it is?”

Her face burned with indignation.

“Tom, fuck off,” she turned back towards the stove, “I’m fucking worried about you and that’s all you can say? Grow up.”

Tom closed his eyes for a moment, and rubbed his fingers over his temples, stress washing through him in slow rivets, driving him near the brink. He never thought it would be so difficult to keep her out of a media frenzy.

“I’m sorry,” he said, coming up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders. He rubbed once, noting how tense she was, “I think the move is going to be good for us… no more of this in between stuff.”

“Tom,” Elle sighed deeply, “for the record, I don’t _ever_ believe you’d cheat on me.”

He dipped his lips to her ear and breathed slowly.

“Because you love me so well, darling.”

“I’m worried. I love you. It’s ok for me to worry.” She turned in his arms so that she could face him. Tom’s eyes shifted and lowered until they met hers and he found no hostility or contempt, only genuine concern. Her hands slid upwards to his cheeks and held them, “Trust me always, Tom.”

He leaned down and captured her lips in a reverent kiss that was full of all the adoration he felt for her. His stress began to drift slowly and become less evident with every stroke and when they surfaced for air, he was smiling.

“I guess the media harping on has really bothered me lately… plus, I had to put on weight for Thor and it’s now starting to melt off. I’m naturally thin, my love.”

“I hope if we have daughters, that they take my physique… how awkward would that be?”

He chuckled quietly, leaning his forehead against her own. He loved when she talked like that. The future always looked brighter when it involved baby Hiddles.

“Agreed. You’re so perfect.” He cupped her bum suggestively, and she laughed throatily with a squeal as he easily lifted her up on the counter and began to play with the hem of her nightshirt. “Sarah’s wedding is coming up.”

“Mhm,” she groaned as he reached up the shirt and held her breasts, kneading carefully, tugging her nipples.

“She’s coming in for last minute arrangements with mum next Tuesday. I think its time we all sat down.”

He placed his mouth on one of the hardened pebbles through her shirt and bit gently making her kick the back of the cabinet involuntarily.

“Oh my god…”

“So shall I schedule dinner? Tea?”

“What ever… just shut up and keep doing that.”

Tom laughed and got to work.

________________________________________________

 

The night that she and Tom were scheduled to have dinner with Sarah, Elle was feeling queasy with nerves and checking her outfit multiple times before finally saying ‘to hell with it’. Tom watched her anxiety mount and tried everything he could to soothe her frazzled nerves, but virtually nothing worked, and liquor always made her feel uncomfortable and silly if they were going to be in public situations. So he left her alone to fester in whatever inner turmoil she was dealing with, and went about checking the dinner that he was making while she sat on the sofa with her computer doing work stuff.

He was always a little on edge whenever she had her computer out. He was afraid any second could go by and she would realize the shit storm that was brewing because of their relationship. Even though they had been stable for a few good months, he was still scared of the possibility of things getting out of control. That’s what had happened with his last relationship.

Today she was wrapped in her own little bubble, though. It was understandable. Sarah had not been so forgiving of what happened after the miscarriage. She’d carried so much blame that she’d lost course credit on her sabbatical and had to come home early. She had loved Elle like her own sister and while she’d been pregnant with Nora, Sarah had been a massive support system while Tom was on location. She had driven her to appointments, held her hand while she was sick, and talked about how excited she was to be an aunt. It killed Tom that his sisters had been hurt so badly through it all.

Sarah wasn’t hostile now, though. She was incredibly forgiving and so wrapped up in happiness, that to know that Tom and Elle were once again in love only increased that happiness. But naturally Elle wouldn’t believe what he told her, because she thought he was out for her feelings. He decided to let it go and have her see for herself.

“Would you like to taste this?” he asked from the archway of the kitchen. She was currently sorting through spreadsheets, “ohh, what’s that? Looks _very_ interesting”

She tipped her head up to see him. He was wearing dark wash jeans and his favorite Armani cardigan. His hair was a mess and his beard was growing out. He looked handsome.

“Work stuff. I’m tempted to call Sophia over and have her look at them. She’s fucking bonkers about you—us.”

Tom gave her an amused smirk.

“Why?”

“She thinks were are like Will and Kate and spend our days feeding each other sweets and reading sonnets.”

“That sums up the first few months of our relationships.” He smiled dreamily, “did you break her heart and tell her how normal we are?”

“Mhm… that you hog the coffee, and make annoying clucking noises at the TV and get a double chin while your reading.”

Tom snorted indignance.

“Did you mention any of _your_ own misgivings? Hm? Like the fact that you never do laundry and will wear every thing in the fucking house, including _my_ things before you get around to it? Or that you’re a terrible cook? Or the fact that you dip your fingers in your teacup when you read? Disgusting, Elle!”

She gasped, low with horror, and lunged over the couch, her laptop safely to the side, and lunged at him, mirth filling his ears as he caught her with a loud 'oomph'. She tickled his sides relentless until he was bellowing apologies at the top of his lungs, trying to regain control and avoid her nibble little fingers.

“ELLE!” He shouted, yanking her off of him finally, clearly out of breath but definitely smiling. She grinned and held a firm ground.

“You bastard!” she screeched as he began to tickle her. She went into defense mode and kicked him so hard that he dropped her and she landed on the ground, in a pool of her own tears from her relentless laughter. Tom grumbled at her and tried to walk away, but she caught onto his ankle and refused to let go.

“You started it, brute!”

“Elle, get off! The rolls are ringing.”

With a dramatic sigh, she let go of him, and instead of going directly into the kitchen to check the status of the rolls, he leaned against the wall and watched her get up.

“Come on… you’re trying this whether you like it or not.”

Sarah arrived moments after and Elle forgot the playful mood and felt the sting of shame as Tom went to answer the door. He paused a moment, squeezing her shoulder, and kissing her forehead.

“Love you,”

“Ditto.”

Sarah was beautiful. India had brought out something inside of her that London kept hidden away. She had the warm glow of love written all over her beautiful face, and as she saw her lost sister for the first time, tears pickled in her eyes and she confessed softly before taking the tiny woman in her arms, that she’d sat in her car and cried for long moments before heading in.

Elle cried and cried. Tom acted as a mediator, enveloping both of the sobbing women in his arms and holding them tight, pressing respective kisses on their heads. When the pasta rang again, he left them, and they continued to hug hard, not saying anything that made sense.

“I knew you’d come back… I _knew_ it was always _you_.” She whispered fiercely, trying to clear away some of the tears in her eyes. Elle cried harder, her eyes red.

“I didn’t think that I deserved him, Sarah… after what happened with the baby—“

“Oh, god…Elle, please… no, no… you can’t talk like that, please. It’s been so hard to let her go…let you go. And you’re back, and I am so happy,”

“Me too…. I love him. Some times I can’t believe he loves me back.”

Elle was suffocated by another hug.

“Sarah, you’re so beautiful and happy,” Elle breathed by her ear as she squeezed her, “I’m so happy for you.”

Sarah took a step away from her and her face crumpled slightly, fresh tears falling.

“You’re coming to my wedding…. Oh god, I never thought…. you make him _so, so_ happy, Elle. His eyes…. They’re the _same_.”

_____________________________________________________

 

As they crawled into bed that night, and Tom moved to spoon her as he usually did, she stopped him and requested that they lay face to face. She pillowed her hands against her cheek and smiled lightly. Tom returned the smile and yawned. She could tell he was exhausted, but she didn’t want to go to sleep yet.

“I’m so happy.” She whispered in the dark. “Everything is turning out right.”

“Shall I book your flight then? For India?”

She nodded her head absentmindedly, her fingers coming up to brush through the light spatter of hair on his chest. She continued to stare at him, focused on how beautiful his eyes were. He leaned in and kissed her cheek tenderly, “I love you.”

“There they are,” she laughed softly, her nose scrunching in her own joy, “Sarah told me your eyes were the same and I couldn’t tell a difference.”

His fingers reached up and caressed her jaw, then reached under her shirt touching her breasts, making her sigh softly.

“They’ve never changed for you, papillon.”

“I thought you were sleepy,” Elle moaned as he pinched her and then reached both hands around her bum to press her into his center.

“You are far more appealing than sleep. Elle, are you keen on wearing those pajamas to bed, my darling?”

“Stop teasing, Tom!” she nearly shouted as he made small circles and caused her to buck wildly. “You son of a bitch! I am going to make you pay for that!”

Tom laughed a dark laugh.

“Go on…”


	17. Lena

India tickets were booked and Elle became effortlessly busy with work as she tried her damnedest to suss out details before their holiday. They decided to make a holiday out of it instead of briefly attending the wedding and then heading home.

Home was a comforting term for both of them. Once again, they were cohabiting on an official level that caused fights to equal out to the sofa. Thankfully, there had been none of those, but it comforted Tom greatly to know that she no longer had a flat to escape to. Their home was beautiful, and best of all, a great big gate that was nearly impossible to infiltrate protected them. While Tom was busy with preparing for a new role, Elle was working like a mad woman to settle everything into it’s proper place in their home. She worked room-by-room and enjoyed watching the transformation.

With the move to the Hampstead house, Tom and Elle were both discussing the future a lot more in depth than before. He was in aw at just how far she’d come in regards to her security. Elle had never been a planner, and she certainly didn’t like the idea of planning things like having babies, but it was something that was close to her and her partner. In a year, they decided. Two at max. They wanted the chance to explore and live together before introducing a new life into their home. There was something inside of Elle that craved those familial ties, though.

Sitting on the floor in the guest bedroom one night found both of them panting wildly, Elle riding him as hard as she could, squeezing his cock each time he thrusted into her. He was digging his fingers into her tender buttocks, encouraging her with dirty words, adoring the way her short hair bounced freely as she lost herself to pleasure. When they both came, one tumbling in right after the other, Tom shouted loudly and gripped her so tightly that it was sure to leave bruises.

“Fuck!” he hissed. She laughed breathily and buried her face in his neck as Tom held her boneless body steady while she regained reality. Her arms were loosely secured around his neck.

“Well that was sexy,” she purred in his ear. “Does it please you to know that you are the only man to ever bring me…there?”

His eyes bulged a fraction.

“You’re fucking joking?”

“Nope,” she breathed happily, sated in post-coital euphoria.

“Elle, we were apart for nearly ten years,”

“I had sex… but I had to assist, and for me, that doesn’t count. You—mm,” she rolled on him again causing him to pant in sensitivity at how remarkable things felt. “Just always manage to do all of the right things”

“For fuck sakes, woman!” he hissed playfully, stilling her movements with his hands, “I’m not a machine!” Tom laughed and tugged her closely to him, smelling her fragrant hair, and thanking the shampoo gods for her particular scent. “To be quite honest, I have no idea what we are even doing in here,”

She laughed shakily still.

“Can you carry me to bed?”

“Give us a second, love. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Well then,” she drew out, nipping that the flesh of his shoulders, “I’ve done my job right.”

He laughed breathily, and it sounded much too loud for the room, but comforted the little companion that was nestled so carefully against him. He kissed the crown of her head,

“Mmm… love you, papillon,”

“Ditto… let’s just sleep in here. I don’t want to move.”

As if he’d given himself a time limit and pep talk, Tom hoisted her up by her bottom, and instinctively, she slung her arms around his neck and tightened her legs around his waist in a death vice.

“Cruel man,” she mumbled sleepily by his ear.

A week before the wedding and their flight, Elle had to leave for Florence on official Elle UK business. Tom begrudgingly drove her to the airport, not looking forward to their first separation in four months. Those months had been packed with work for both parties, but it was always home based, which was new to Elle. She had acclimated to a nomadic lifestyle in the past few years since her career had taken off so dramatically. She knew if she wanted things to work with Tom that she would have to cool off, and be more emotionally present in the home. He needed that, and it was a give and take situation where he met her needs, and expected her to reciprocate. And for once in her entire life, Elle felt the desire to _nest_.

Florence found Sophia and Elle working like dogs in order to keep up with the busy schedule. Fashion week was approaching and hordes of shows would include exclusive Elle UK designers that were just hitting the scene. That was where Elle’s expertise came in. Her phone was glued to her ear non-stop, and Sophia answered email inquires at lightening speed, not even doubling over for grammar checks at that point. Most days consisted of a max of four hours of sleep, and then from around five in the morning, till an ungodly hour at night, she was running all over the city like a professional resident, café latte in one hand, mobile in another, trying to catch her breath and get her game straight.

Tom knew better than to call. He knew that it would only hurt both of their feelings. She was erratic and crazed. She answered all of his texts, and his small Shakespeare quotes that he sent her way did bring a smile to her face, but that was the maximum allotted contact while she was going through the struggle.

______________________________________________________________

 

In Hampstead, Tom was glad that Elle was away for a little bit, because he needed to sort out the shit storm that was surrounding their very public relationship. Things had slowly gotten out of hand when more fan pictures surfaced. Rumors and vicious lies were being spread like wildfire over social media, and though Tom was never one to pay them heed, Elle’s involvement made it his priority.

“Alright,” Luke had come over to the Hampstead house instead of meeting Tom out for lunch or dinner as he usually would. The situation was far too delicate for public. As of late, local restaurants and cafes that he and Elle frequented were being stalked. He’d seen several pictures of them online and it was disconcerting that the world was privy to their early morning ritual of grabbing coffee in their lounge clothing and muttering broodily at one another until the caffeine sank in. For others to have intruded on that private space made him want to vomit.  “You say she is oblivious?”

“Your words,” Tom said testily, stirring his tea, “she may be pretending not to know… she is in publicity, for fuck sakes… they’d found her twitter… she doesn’t use it much, though. Plus I think these psychos are too ashamed to write her.

“But they’ve written you?”

“Oh yes… I’ve gotten heaps… angry letters, sad letters, elated letters…I’m at my wits end with this bullshit, Luke.”

“I’ve done a little research… they’re digging deep. They’re calling her your fuck buddy and there are rumors circulating that you’ve been seen around town with Lena. Tom, you’re my mate… I don’t want you to lose your mind when I ask this, but have you seen Lena?”

Tom’s jaw ticked in anger, and his eyes flashed.

“Oh course I haven’t seen her!” he shouted.

“Calm down, you cockhead. The only way we are going to sort this is if you are honest and rational.”

Luke, who was usually accustomed to his clients getting angry with him when he asked for intimate details, was not partial to Tom losing it on him. He was usually level headed, but now that Elle had sprung back into his life, he was on both sides of a dangerous continuum of happiness and panic.

“Why would you ask about her? She was done before Elle and I reconciled.”

“Does Elle know you saw her before Guinea?”

“She doesn’t know who she was. Besides, we were not a couple. Lena was a fucking rebound. Easy, mate. As much as it makes me sound like a fucking arse, it is what it is.”

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose and scribbled something down in his notebook.

“I am going to tell you something on a whim and instinct here…”

“Ok,” Tom sipped his tea slowly.

“The team thinks that Lena is the anonymous poster that is spreading rumors about you and Elle.”

Tom’s flat palm landed open against the wood of the table they were sitting out and it caused the tea cup to rattle and its contents to slosh around wildly. His blue eyes were a storm of anger in that moment as he struggled to understand what his friend was telling him.

“Evidence,” he said quietly.

“IP tracking. She’s posted from the studio and her apartment… which has a like IP to your location which is making these clever media girls thinking that it is _your_  posting hate mail. She is a hot topic right now too. Rumor has it she was a friends with benefits and you are running around Elle with her.”

“Oh, for fuck sakes!” Tom bellowed. “Get her here now, Luke! You get that bitch here and you straighten this out, right fucking now! I am _not_ losing Elle to this…No!” he was near frantic, standing and pacing the kitchen. “Elle isn’t apart of this old life… she doesn’t know about Lena…or Hel. She doesn’t know about this stuff and I want her to remain clueless, Luke.”

“I wouldn’t call her clueless, Tom,” Luke warned very seriously, “she is a dangerous PR woman, and very well respected. She holds her own, and if she catches wind of what’s going on, there is no putting a lid on it. You need to sort this shit out with Lena and then handle your scandals with Elle.”

“Oh god,” Tom groaned in misery, digging his hands through his hair and tugging.

“Tom, stop.” Luke ordered roughly, standing and laying a hand on the taller man’s arm. Tom stopped his pacing, but it did not help to quell the anxiety inside of him. Why did it _always_ come back to Lena? She was one of his worst mistakes. Lena was supposed to be fun with no strings attached. In the very beginning it appeared as if she understood that, too… but things had become too frequent, and he hadn’t had contact with her outside of a few texts since a few nights before Guinea.

Tom felt such overwhelming guilt for it all. Having sex with two different women on such a close scale felt wrong. He felt like he’d cheated on Elle. Things had been going so well outside of this mounting drama. They were planning on starting a family, and he was starting to think about asking his mum for his gran’s ring. He felt that after the wedding it would be time to make Elle his wife. Now with all of his past dug up and laid out like this, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

“She’s countries away right now.”

“If she finds out on her own… I dunno… some of those stories are very passionate and believable, and they continue on in _droves_ Tom. These people are not letting it go.”

“How can we confirm and convict Lena?”

“Convict?” Luke snorted with a laugh, “to convict Lena of liable, _if_ she is responsible, then we’d have to bring her to court and admit that all of it is true. There is zero insurance over rumors Tom, so unless you’ve been fucking England and half of the US, I’d shy away from that one.”

“Fuck.” Tom muttered, “it’s untrue, you know? I’m in love with Elle and I always have been.”

“I know. I believe you.”

Tom sat back down and ran a hand through his hair then picked up his luke warm tea and sipped tentatively.

“What do we do?”

“Publicly out her. It is the only way to clear up these rumors.”

“What sort of rumors are current?”

Luke rubbed his eyes,

“They change and build on each other daily, but as it seems, the most current one has you attached to Lena, which is perfectly believable since you haven’t publically outted Elle… for all the world know, Elle is the one you are fucking around on Lena with… Lena went with you to Wimbledon, Tom. She’s gained exposure with an attachment to your fucking name.”

“Shall we call Lena in?”

Lena, a 35-year-old program executive, was all too pleased when Tom rang her and asked her to stop off at Luke’s office. Tom refused to bring her into the Hampstead house that Elle had spent long hours decorating. That would have been entirely disrespectful to his girl friend. On top of that, he didn’t want Lena or anyone else to realize that he’d sold his old house. The less they knew, the better off he and Elle were.

Tom had met Lena at a promotions party, and they hit it off based on music. She worked in the industry and invited him to a few gigs. When the sex happened, it was based on mutual understandings that he was not looking for long-term relationships and he did not have feelings for her. It was something for the both of them to take part in for enjoyment purposes only. Nothing more. Lena was scorned when he ended their arrangement, but Tom would have never pegged her as the type to go postal and start to spread vicious lies about him.

“Hello Lena,” Luke greeted as the blonde woman walked into the office. Tom who was seated on Luke’s sofa, looked up at her through angry, hooded eyes, ready to lash out at her any moment despite Luke’s advising.

“Luke,” she greeted with customary English kisses. “Thomas.” She acknowledged. Lena worked for the big dogs. She knew the game and she could tell something wicked was brewing.

“Please, have a seat… would you like tea?”

“No.” she answered, gaze not shifting on Tom who stared at her unmoving. Luke, sensing the tension sat next to Tom to stand in as a mediator. He folded his hands and expelled a deep breath.

“Lena… we need to be honest and frank here. I’ve got solids that suggest you’ve been baiting a few social networks with details from your and Tom’s relationship… some of it being true, some of it being false. Is this a fact Lena?”

Staring Tom dead in the eye, she said,

“Why did you lead me on?”

“Now, Lena—“ Luke intersected quickly, but Tom held up his hand stopping him.

“Lena, I thought we were friends with a special kind of relationship. It was free from any agenda. We talked about this before any of it happened.”

“And if I wanted more?”

“Then you should have looked elsewhere. I told you that I wasn’t looking for a relationship.”

“But you’ve found one,”

The room was completely silent. Elle had not been outted, they’d only been seen by fans inside of cafes sitting together. Surely Lena couldn’t be so daft. She sounded more and more like an instigator every second that passed.

“Lena, your Twitter is leaving Tom’s fanbase to believe that the both of you an exclusive item. As a professional woman, I would advise you away from this kind of behavior.” Luke said firmly, “trolling fans will not win you an ounce of favoritism anywhere,”

Lena snorted obnoxiously.

“Luke, you’re not the only one selling a brand.”

“So you’re leaching off of my name?” Tom asked incredulously. “You’re scorned so now you will hang me out to dry? Bop off, babe. You were never that important.”

“Tell that to your batshit crazy fanbase. They seem to think we’re still fucking under your little Elizabeth’s nose.”

Tom’s jaw ticked and his fist stretched as he gripped the sofa’s arm so hard that it hurt his fingertips.

“Why are you doing this? What is there to gain?”

“I dunno. Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re such a selfish cock, Tom. All of these accounts of you sleeping around on women… I wouldn’t put any of it past you.”

Blue eyes blazed Lena’s brown eyes that seemed devoid of emotion.

“That’s why Elle is in your seat, Lena… we don’t know each other intimately, and if we had known each other, you would have never accused me of those things… you’re hurting, and I can only vaguely understand. If I had known that this sort of thing was not for you in the beginning, I would have never initiated anything. I thought it would be uncomplicated, and look what it has turned into.” Despite Tom’s anger, his tone was calm just then as he spoke to Lena, realizing that she was hurting. “Please do understand that I never intended to have your hurt, darling. Never. Taking my happiness away isn’t going to save give you back yours…”

They talked for ages after that. Lena came clean about the sites and the trolling. She shut down her social media to the world, and insisted that if she deemed it worthwhile for her jobs sake, she would reopen a new account that was Tom free. She told Tom that she was not responsible for everything that was happening, but mostly the speculation that surrounded her. She insisted that all of the extra bits on Elle were not tidbits that she’d passed out.

Luke sealed the deal by asking her to sign a NDR that would protect her and Tom both from future defamation surrounding the topic. While leaving, Luke gave them a moment in which Tom came to Lena, settling his hand on her upper arms, and looked down at her with soft eyes.

“How can you look at me?” she asked, tilting her head out of his line of sight.

“Lena, you deserve more than a man who can’t love you… I was in my own fucking world and never wanted love from anyone.” He paused a moment, “I’d found it long before, and lost it… now I’ve found it again, and it is beautiful… and if you continue on with your spunky attitude, I am sure that there is someone out there ready to fall at his knees with roses and wine wanting to love you like you deserve to be loved, darling.”

Lena wiped a tear from her eye.

“This is goodbye?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’m sorry things got out of hand. But I’m not sorry I knew you, Tom.”

“Me too,”

________________________________________________________________

 

When Tom arrived home, and sank to the floor, face in his hands, with his breath uneven, and his throat tight. He was so shaken by the experience with Lena that it made it incredibly hard to focus on anything but what could have happened if she had not signed, and this wasn’t resolved. Things had been wonderful at home with Elle. His life finally felt whole again. Thinking about that going away destroyed him inside. She was his life now, and thinking about what it would be like to exist without her again made him frantic.

Shaking, he dig his cellphone from his pocket and scanned through his messages searching for some life line from his lover. It ended up barren, so he called her for the first time since she landed nearly a week ago.

“…Hello,” for a few moments there he assumed that she wouldn’t pick up. Hearing her voice made his throat even tighter.

“Elle?” he whispered, trying his best to maintain composure.

“Tom? What’s wrong?” she could tell automatically that something was not right with him.

“Everything is ok, darling, I just miss you is all.”

“Liar,” she whispered softly, her voice tender, “Tom… I’ll be home soon, and when I get there, I am going to hug the mercy out of you.”

“Yes, do that, my darling… please.” His voice grew weaker, and he could hear her shifting about in order to obtain a quieter spot and then her voice was back on the line,

“Darling, please tell me what’s the matter. I can tell this is big. What is it?”

He expelled a deep breath,

“Skeletons, my darling, nasty old skeletons trying to ruin the present tense.”

She was shocked to hear this, but it did not deter her.

“Skeletons, eh? Well, I’m not afraid of a bag of bones, Tom… so you just point me in their direction and I’ll knock em dead…so to speak.”

He forced a quiet laugh that left her feeling a little sad.

“I love you. In the past we’ve fucked up in our lives… all of your laundry is hung for the whole fucking world to see, but guess what, Tom? I _still_ love you.”

The first batch of tears rolled down.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, you know?” she could hear his agony.

“Tom? Baby, you’re crying! Oh, fuck… I wish I was there…”

“Are you happy Elle?”

“Being with you… as some domestic _goddess_? Oh, monumentally. I still refuse to learn how to cook,”

This time his small laugh was genuine and it sank warmth inside of her.

“When you get back we need to discuss something’s.” He told her regrettably.

“After I make love to you… that is my bargain, you mewling quim.”

And so it was.

She arrived by cab after refusing to let him pick her up at Heathrow. It was Sunday, and very busy. She didn’t want them to be harassed, she simply wanted to kick off her shoes and be with her man. When she came up the park and let herself in the gate, she could see him poking his head out of the window and feelings bloomed inside of her chest making her feel mental.

‘God, Tom.’ She thought, ‘If only you knew…’

He met her outside of the door in a pair of ratty sweatpants that he ran in, and his flimsy blue shirt that left little to the imagination. His beard had grown in, and his hair was longer and curlier than it had been in a while. He looked absolutely sexy. She had little time to actually appreciate how gorgeous he was, because he’d swept her up, threw her over his shoulder, and picked up her bag in another hand, carrying her into the house while she kicked, giggled, and screamed.

“Tom!”

Only when they were all the way up the stairs, her case strewn on the first floor of the house, did he finally set her down. Before she could say a single thing, he’d crushed his mouth to hers, fingers seeking out her clipped up hair, and quickly pulling the pins out allowing the growing hair to cascade out in a several disoriented waves. The smell of hotel shampoo assaulted him brashly. He wanted her to smell like _her_ … to smell like _home_. But his raging desire overtook propriety and he could no longer contain all of his emotions. He needed Elle _now_.

Their lovemaking was fast and desperate with sounds that were like unto something wild and primal. A week had suddenly become 10 years all over again. Tom was considerate, he _always_ was, but that afternoon, he needed what he needed, and Elle had the feeling that it had nothing to do with sex.

They napped afterward, a mess of limbs and sweat. An hour later, her mobile woke them, and after taking a brief moment to sort out work business, she slipped into the bathroom where she heated up a shower, then came back into their bedroom, and retrieved her pensive lover, pulling him by the hand and tugging him along with her.

In the shower he fell to his knees and pleased her again. She pulled his hair and screamed her throat raw. When she tried to return the favor, he silently refused, and then washed her body like it was precious metal, polishing her, and lathering her in attention and affection, until it was nearly too much.

Afterward they went to the kitchen for tea and biscuits. Elle sat on the island while Tom stirred milk into his tea and took an appreciative drag. He then joined her, both of them sitting criss cross applesauce face to face, knee to knee. He cleared his throat and casted his eyes down.

“Some things have come up, my love, things we must talk about before anything else should happen.” His tone was uneven which indicated his nerves to Elle. Was making love a desperate attempt at a last connection? Did he honestly believe that she would believe him?

“Go on,” Elle prompted, sipping her tea.

“I’ve been hard up lately because the social media sites know about you and I, and it has created a shit storm at the base. People know you, and they’ve started to say vicious things.”

A small smile spread on her face, and his brow crimped in confusion and shock.

“I know, Tom.”

“Wha—“

“I’m a fucking publicist, for godsakes, did you think I _wouldn’t_ know? Did you think every time I used my laptop around you, I didn’t notice how you tensed up and watched over my shoulder, suddenly fascinated with my work? Come on… give me a break.”

“I don’t understand,” Tom said, “If you’ve known, why haven’t you said anything?”

She shrugged and chewed on a biscuit.

“Because I don’t care,” Elle’s emphasis made his belly feel sick. “I don’t give a fuck what those little troll fans think. Listen, babe… they all want your cock and I have it… they’re jealous.”

Tom sputtered with indignation at her speech.

“Elle,” he warned.

“Was that it? Was that what this was all about?” she laughed silently, mirth in her eyes.

“Well, yes and no… there is more,” he shoved his tea pot away from himself. “An ex-girlfriend of mine has been the one feeding the rumors. I don’t know how current and up-to-date with this all you are, but some of them are very nasty and include my sneaking behind your back and seeing her.”

“Are you?”

“No!”

“Then who cares?”

“Elle, you can’t be serious. Wake the fuck up, darling. As much as this little bubble is fun and all, I have a public image to stand by.”

“So this isn’t about my feelings, but _your_ reputation?”

His eyes squared on hers and he wanted to throttle and hug her at the same time. Maybe she was a little right in her analysis. Maybe he was concerned for _him_.

“I slept with someone…a woman named Lena, three nights before you and I reconciled.” He blurted out. “We were never a relationship, I was just fucking her.”

He watched slowly as her face turned from amused by his silliness, to silently horrified and disgusted in the matter of ten seconds after he announced his secret. Why had he done that?

“She was jealous of what we have… she wanted more than I could ever give her.”

“And what exactly was that?” she asked quietly. “Love?”

“You were in a relationship.”

“So Lena was sex? “

“Yes.”

“That makes me cold,” she admitted sadly, her eyes moving from his, “I know I can’t be angry with you… but I’m still cold.”

“Darling—let me hold you.” Tom tried reaching forward to grasp a hold of her, but she danced out of his reach.

“No, Tom. We need to finish this. Be fair.” He knew damn well that she was helpless against his comfort. It was one of the only things he’d had on her. “You told me that the moment we met again at the gala that you were going to marry me. Were you lying, or were you needing to get your cock sucked?”

He flinched at her words, especially after the intimate afternoon they’d spent together.

“You’re asking me why Lena? When I knew I loved you? I don’t know. You’re relationship with Henry stung me pretty badly.” He answered her honestly. She believed him.

“That’s no way to treat a woman, Tom. I’m disgusted with you.” Her tone was clear and harsh. “Think about the children we are going to bring into this relationship. If we had a son— _William_ , what would you say to him? And our girl? If she had been a victim like Lena?”

“You’re siding with Lena after all she said? She fucking hates you,”

“I would hate me too. You fucked that woman, and three days later fell in love with me again, assuring your liaisons with her were over. Women are not mind readers, you idiot. We don’t realize when men are just using us for _sex_!” Elle’s temper was carefully unfolding itself. “You were with her multiple times. You took her on vacations…. Was it just about fucking, or were you trying to replace me?”

Tom’s eyes flickered in anger as she said that.

“You soon forget how badly you fucked me up, darling. I was _always_ trying to foolishly replace you…. Hoping that one-day I could be happy again… I never thought Lena could be you. She was a friend and I thought that benefits with our friendship might do us both good. We were lonely. It’s not just about sex, it’s about companionship.”

“I don’t know whether to laugh at you or cry… you’re so selfish, Tom. Fuck you for telling me all of this just to ease your burdens. Now each and every time I get hits from people claiming things about your relationship with her, I am going to paint the picture because it was real… she was and is very real.”

She slid off of the counter and took her tea cup with her as she moved through the room,

“I’m going to work in my office… please leave me be.”

“This conversation isn’t over,” he growled. “I refuse to live as a stranger with someone in my own house. We’re going on holiday in two fucking days. Let’s do this now.”

“What do you want to do?” she whispered, “should we talk about every woman that you slept with while I was trying to get over the accident?”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Tom snarled. “Do you _dare_ bring her into this! How fucking dare you!”

“Are you hurt? The same way I am after making love with my boyfriend to find out that he had another woman spread out just three days before he had me? Does it _hurt_ Tom?”

“I’ve never been so disgusted with you. I have been a faithful partner. I have loved you, and done all I could when we were young and now, so that we could be happy. I wanted our baby. I wanted your love and your presence. I lost both things and have travelled this fucking earth without _anything_. For you to use our daughter to spite me… grow the fuck up, darling.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________

 

She worked in the garden for the afternoon pulling weeds and leveling ground. She wore shorts and a t-shirt, completely unglamorous, and played their conversation back in her head over and over again, at certain points, her eyes brimming with tears, then at others, anger flowing through her veins. The yard work served as a decent distraction from the rage she’d felt. It had turned to shame, and she tried to pin point where everything had gone so wrong. If she was being honest, the Lena story dug at her, but she didn’t blame Tom. She’d been with Henry while she slept with him. That was actual cheating. She summed it up at the fact that she’d wanted so badly for Tom to have been the image of a man in pain, waiting for his long lost love to return. Instead, he’d had a life that he’d lived.

The fight reminded her that she was in love with the pre-fame Tom, the gangly one who was nervous when he first took her to bed, and asked permission to kiss her for the first time. He was a man with a deep heart, and deep scars, and it was indeed, very unfair of her to bring up Nora, no matter what the intent was.

After a good cry in the garden, she came back upstairs and showered off sweat, and then changed into comfortable clothing. She breathed strangely the entire time, knowing what she had to do, and not looking forward to it. Wiping her sweaty palms on the fabric covering her thighs, she headed downstairs to where Tom was brooding in the living room. He was trying to read scripts, but she knew better. He couldn’t focus when his mind was full and he couldn’t clear his mind until he was happy. Right now he was not happy.

Hearing the patter of her footsteps, he looked up for a brief moment, and then glanced back down. Elle, undeterred, walked down the two steps into their cozy little space, and once in front of him, she dropped to her knees, and rested her cheek against his thighs.

“I love you,” she whispered. “and I’m sorry for everything—I wasn’t trying to use our daughter against you… I was hurt and wanted you to know how hurt I was.”

After a few moments of silence, he laid a hand on her cheek, and stroked her wet hair languidly, encouraging her.

“I have no right… I know that. But to me, you’ll always be my first love… my best friend. To think of others being privy to that makes me feel a little empty. But I realize how grateful I should be, because we’re here now in our home, and you love me. That should always be enough.” She looked up into his eyes finally, “Tom… I’m your lover and friend, and it is not my place to pass judgments on you… We’re here now, and I can tell by the way you look at me, that I’m it… that makes me very happy,” tears filled her eyes as she was no longer able to maintain control of her emotion, “I think I would like you to hold me now…”

Tom sat with her in his lap, locked in like a little pretzel for a good hour while he hummed to her, and allowed her to rest peacefully on his chest. There were no words exchanged, and no hard feeling orbiting the room. Just companionship and undoubtedly love.

“No one has ever been privy to love, Elizabeth. You’re the only woman I have ever loved.” He said in a small voice that appeared to be as contrite as her own. “I never meant to make you feel inadequate or unworthy, my darling. You are neither of those things.” Tom kissed the roof of her head, “I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you,”

Elle buried her face deeper into his chest and her breathing hitched as he said this.

“Thank god,”

Later on that night, they settled down on the island again, this time with a homemade fry up, and decided to try and discuss the topic of the media again. As much as it had exhausted him, he understood that the problem was still there and needed to be addressed.

“Luke and I met with Lena on Friday. She signed a non-disclosure contract and if it breaks, we can take her to the cleaners.” Tom said slowly, gauging her reaction. Their makeup sex had been slow and intimate on the living room carpet, full of peppered kisses and soft words; entirely different from the frantic episode when she’d first arrived. But they’d needed it to reassure one another that everything was ok.

“That’s good.” She said, poking around the black pudding on her plate, “What does Luke say?”

“He thinks that it is time for you to publicly come out with me. He’s sorting through the calendars and trying to see what might be best.”

“That might be for the best,”

“I have the junket coming up shortly… I will undoubtedly get asked about you. How do you feel about coming out?”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured for us to be exposed. That’s not fair to you and I… we’re adults who deserve some measure of privacy. Our history is no one’s business… Tom, I would _die_ if everyone found out about that accident… that’s ours,”

“I know, I know, my love,” He soothed softly, reaching out and stroking her cheek. “Don’t worry about that. We’re safe.”

“Thank you,” Elle said quietly. “I can withstand their petty cruelties, but inviting an innocent baby into it… no. That’s not going to happen.”

“Luke is protecting us, love. I don’t think we have any reason to fear those things surfacing. They belong to us and no one else.”

She seemed to be settled by this answer and began to pick at her food again.

“Is there anyone else I should worry about pulling a Lena?”

“No,” he admitted firmly, “any other person had my true intentions and believe me, darling, there were not very many.”

“Why not?”

“After you left, I dove straight into my career…I finished up RADA and got casted…I worked 24/7 and didn’t have interests in romantic relationships because I held onto the dream that you were going to come back to me… The first serious relationship was Helen.”

“Why did you end it?”

His eyes were bright as they looked into Elle’s

“I couldn’t tell her that I loved her.” He sipped his beer, “She asked me to my face why I couldn’t ever say it… then it was over because she knew there was something wrong with me.”

“Did you love her?”

“Her company made me feel something again, but the way I love you? Not a chance… I don’t think you understand…I would give everything up for you… everything,”

Elle propelled herself up and kissed him softly.

“Ditto,”

Tom’s eyes crinkled up into his beautiful, familiar smile and made her insides warm.

“You’re something else, Thomas… So is Luke going for a more high or low press event?”

“Unsure.”

“Would you like my advice?”

“Unsure,” he snickered. She kicked her foot out and hit him in the shin.

“Low… If you just pop me up out of no where when all of your little psycho fans will be screaming their throats raw for you, it’ll peeve them off… low coverage… like a gala… that’ll give them time to cope.”

Tom frowned,

“I liked you better as a set designer.”

“And I liked you better as a shy virgin,”

He gasped,

“I was _not_ a virgin!” Tom’s huff of indignance made her keel over with laughter, “And I _damn_ well proved it to you—three fucking times!”

“You remember how many?” she laughed, tears streaming down her face, which she knew annoyed him endlessly.

“Naturally. A man can’t forget when his woman makes those sorts of sounds… plus I had these delicious scratch marks in my back for a good while.”

“I’m horny just thinking about it,”

Tom giggled at her brash statement and silently thanked god that she wasn’t shy. No, sir… she certainly wasn’t that. Their sex life had reached the fucking stars since their reconciliation.

“Do you not like the pudding?”

“Hate it,” she answered, “always have, always will.”

He laughed and tugged her forward, pressing his forehead against her own. He laughed softly in her face.

“You are so perfect,”

“Shut up,”

And she kissed him.


	18. India

Their arrival in India met them with hopefulness that during their two-week holiday, they might lose themselves in the culture, and forget the worries that lived at home in London. Tom was incredibly happy to see Yakov, Sarah’s fiancé, and go out on a stag party with him, while Elle was excited to explore the land, only having been to Delhi once before on a brief business trip. Tom knew the extent of her wanderlust, and he wanted her to see everything. After the wedding their were scheduled to see as many major cities as possible. She was spitting excited when he revealed this to her.

“Hello my darlings!” Diana greeted excitedly as they arrived at Yakov’s three story home. It was beautiful, but was still quite muggy. Tom carried their luggage while Elle hugged his mother tightly, admiring her sari and bangles.

“Hello mum,” Tom smiled once Elle had moved from her arms, and gone to find Emma. “How are you surviving this heat?” he gasped with good humor.

“Oh, hush. You spoiled boy…” she spoke to him tenderly, kissing his cheek, “You look well, my love. Very round and rosy.”

“Elle has insisted on weight gain and fattens me daily…”

“I love that woman.” She mused, “I brought you something, Tom… see me after we have dinner tonight and I’ll give it to you.”

His brow rose quizzically, and she gave no more away, merely showing him to his and Elle’s room on the ground floor. She’d given up on their propriety, which he was glad for.

Elle joined him there moments later with his little sister, who was freshly blonde after a period of being brunette for a small role in a play she’d had. She, like Tom, wanted desperately to act. Elle and Tom had gone to see her preform and her passion was fierce.

“Hello broomhead,” she greeted happily, allowing Tom to tug her into his arms.

“Little one,” he teased, “how has it been?”

Emma and Diana had been in India for nearly a month preparing with Sarah. Indian weddings were very extravagant affairs and Diana had James had spared no expense for their daughter.

“Brilliant. There are so many things to see and do… we must go hiking one day… all of us… as long as you can bloody behave yourself and not try to outdo us!” she told her brother, poking him in the chest. Tom grinned and winked at Elle.

“It’s not my fault I was born into a family of shorties.” He protested.

“Yet you are _in love_ with one as well?”

Tom roared with laughed and pulled Elle close to him, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head.

“She was invaluable.”

“Is,” Elle corrected cheekily. Tom grinned at her, eyes sparkling at the notion that she was genetically wired to have fun and a good laugh. He thought about their terrible fight and how real it had made them… they were not just a bluster of sex and happiness, they were complicated and messy, and it made things real. That made him happy.

“Elle, mum would like you to help us cook dinner before the love birds get back from Yakov’s mum’s place.”

Elle’s eyes shot to Tom, who winked at her with a cheeky grin. She looked absolutely mortified at the prospect and pleaded with him nonverbally to save her.

“Do you guys need me?” he asked nonchalantly. Emma rolled her eyes,

“We can handle it… you can unpack and explore. Isn’t this place fantastic?”

“It is,”

Elle rolled her eyes and her eyes narrowed on Tom’s handsome face.

“You will pay, you know that right?”

“Yep.”

A teasing grin was all she left him with.

___________________________________________________________________

 

That night, Yakov and Sarah both joined the family dinner, and sitting around a table, they all go to know each other better. Elle and Tom answered slews of questions that both were content with. Diana grilled them the hardest. She wanted answers. Tom was gracious and took the hit for his lady on several occasions concerning their relationship.

They ate the food that the girls had prepared, and Elle was teased mercilessly, and the subject mattered soon changed to her kitchen nightmares,

“—Do you remember the salt lick cookies?” Emma asked with a sly grin coating her mouth. Elle gasped with indignance, in disbelief that she _had_ remembered that poor episode of ‘Elle tries to conquer the kitchen,’

Tom snorted shortly, catching himself indiscreetly, receiving a sharp look from his little girlfriend.

“They—uh, they were _lovely_ , darling,”

“Shut up!” she hissed in good humor. Everyone laughed except Tom. Yakov’s laughter was the loudest of the bunch, and as Elle observed the gentle giant, she decided that he was indeed a good match for her sister. Tom found her possession amusing. He thought it was funny that she displayed such a fierce protection over his sister. It made him feel like they were already a family, and in a sense they were. They had been through so much together.

______________________________________________________________

 

That night, while the girls chattered on the porch, Tom snuck into his mother’s room with her, having to duck his head to get through the door, and stuffed his hands into his pockets while she rummaged around her suitcase.

“Yakov is good for her,” he mused, “he makes her laugh like a cow,”

“Cows don’t laugh, my love,” Diana chided with a bemused smile. She pivoted, holding the tiny gift in her hands, and swallowed. “You know, nearly ten years ago, I had this same little ring on my bureau thinking that you’d found the one… the love of your life,” Tom’s eyes widened as the pieces of the puzzle clicked together, “I knew whoever it was had to be bold; she’d have to have faith in you, and she would have to be the single person that you would give the whole world for.”

Tom eyes watered over unconsciously as his mother spoke.

“Then you both got pregnant and were so happy—I’ve never seen you happier, darling.” Tom let out a soft sob at the mention of those blissful days, “true love is maddening. It’s not about falling into the arms of your lover and being swept up in constant passion—it’s about thinking you might go mad without that lover in your life. Thomas, you went mad. You survived, and now your prize is here my darling. She is so beautiful and if there was ever a time for this ring to go from my bureau to her finger, it is _now_ , my sweet one.”

As Diana placed the small ring into his palm, he clutched her shoulders tightly, overwhelmed with emotion for all that was lost and found again. Tom hugged his mother so fiercely that she had to gasp for breath and laughed at her son’s reaction.

“She is the _one_ , my darling. It has always been her.”

____________________________________________________________

That night crawling into bed together, Elle sighed contently as Tom molded himself into her curves and held her closely. He nuzzled her neck and hummed softly against a patch of skin just below her ear.

“It’s beautiful here,” she told him.

“It is. Perhaps we should cheat on London and move here,”

She knew he was teasing and snorted a bit, comforted by the way he cupped her shoulder and the heat of his skin seeped into her own flesh. They both slept in their underclothing to try and ward off the heat. It still felt good to be tangled with him.

“I want to go back to Paris soon,” she told him, “do you remember Paris?”

“Like a dream,” he agreed. “You were so alive and happy. You smiled constantly and ate like a demon… you know I like a woman with an appetite,”

“Except when you have to sacrifice your precious pudding for her,” Elle simpered, remembering all of the delicious desserts that she’d stolen from him during her pregnancy.

“I love you,” Tom kissed her shoulder tenderly, “and for you, I would give away _all_ of my pudding,”

She sighed euphorically,

“I think that I’ve just received the highest honor.” She snuggled further into his embrace, “I love you too, Tom.”

After a few moments of silence, his voice ghosted through the room and sent a chill down her spine,

“ _Marry me_ ,” he proposed.

She was stunned into sudden immobility.

“Are you crazy?” she laughed it off, deciding that it must have been a faux pas on his behalf.

“Yes. I’m crazy, and I need to marry you. Please, Elizabeth. Please be my wife,”

“Oh my god, you’re serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious, love. Today my mother gave me grans ring. It has always been yours. I love you. I love you so fucking much that I think I might lose my head sometimes. I want to be your husband, Elle. I want to have babies with you and grow old with you… I know this isn’t the most romantic proposal, and I suppose I am stealing Sarah’s thunder, but it feels right.”

“No.”

Tom shifted so that he could see her face, the look of pure horror and disenchantment etched into his features deeply.

“No?”

“No… I have dreamed of you getting down on one knee, Tom. I’m not selling myself short… go,”

He grinned at her, and slid out of their bed, making a scene out of it. He rummaged through the side pocket of his suitcase where he’d placed the small black box, and then dropped to one knee. His teeth gleamed in the night as he smiled at her.

“You are my only sunshine, Elle. I’ve loved you for thirteen long years… with or without you. Now, I want to spend the rest of our lives together. Please marry Elizabeth. Bring _yellow_ into our home. Allow me to treasure you.”

A short, nervous laugh escaped her, and Tom could see her head bob and her face break out into emotional smiles, a soft giggle escaping her.

He tackled her back into the mattress, smothering her face in kisses while his hand searched for hers and slid the antique ring onto her finger. It was cool and light on her hand. Tears flooded her eyes despite her happiness and she laced her fingers through his hair, finally meeting his lips.

Out of respect for the other occupants in the noise transferable house, they maintained that they wouldn’t pass first base. Elle kissed him long and hard, breaking apart so that they both could squeal in mutual joy. Tom’s eyes were light and happy as he observed his future wife.

“I don’t want to make an announcement while we’re here… it’s wrong,” he said thoughtfully after they had finally exhausted each other and felt the full effects of jet lag. He had her cuddled close while she was deep in thought observing her engagement ring. “Do you like it?”

“What? Oh, _yes_ … it’s beautiful… one of a kind,”

He smiled and rubbed his nose against hers.

“I love you.”

“Don’t stop, ok?”

“Ok."

"You called me Elizabeth twice. Don't do it again,"

He chuckled warmly and kissed her bare shoulder,

"Ok."


	19. Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we at at the last chapter! Thank you to my dedicated readers who followed me through this story. I am thinking about doing a series on oneshots featuring daddy!Tom. Please let me know what you think in the comments below. Cheers Xx.

Two years later....

 

Tom was in line for coffee, his fingers planning tunes against the pocket of his trousers while he waited. He was antsy. Outside in the rare London sunshine, there was a director waiting to speak with him about a new movie that would begin shooting next year. He’d read the part, loved the script, and even more so, he loved the fact that location was so close to home. It meant he would never be too far away.

Two steaming tea saucers in hand, he quickly maneuvered through the growing line and took a deep steadying breath, trying to remember Elle’s words from the previous night.

‘Let him fall in love with _you_ , Tom.’

“Right,” he muttered softly, stepping out into the warmth, carefully shouldering the door with his arm while trying not to spill the steaming contents all over the place. The director looked up from his phone and smiled heartily, accepting the cuppa.

“Thanks, mate,” he said appreciably as Tom sat down. The actor folded his hands, too nervous to drink his beverage yet. “So… how have things been since I last saw you?”

Tom opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the soft chime of his mobile.

“So sorry,” he murmured, digging it from the pocket of his jeans and briefly looking at the caller.

‘Elle’

He looked up worriedly at his guest and was apologetic,

“I’m sorry, I have to take this… it’s my wife,”

“That’s alright,” he reassured as Tom stood and walked a few feet away before answering,

“Elle?”

“Tom!” she cried out on the other line.

Panic seized his heart so quickly that he felt a lump rise up in his throat. Oh god. Oh god. His mantra was repetitious as he tried to steady himself for her sake.

“Tom, my water broke!” she told him hysterically, “you have to come home,”

Tom could hear her tears from the line and a surge or fear and excitement washed over him in a tidal wave as he raked a hand through his hair,

“Darling, I will be right there, ok! I’m calling Luke so he can set things up at the hospital. Just sit down and keep breathing… all right? Oh, I love you so much my darling!”

“I love you, too,” she told him, her voice still shaking.

“I’m hanging up, sweetheart. I will be home soon. Just breathe.”

Once he had his mobile back in his pocket, Tom rushed back to the table. The director was observing him with mirth dancing in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” he gushed quickly, “my wife… she’s pregnant and her water just broke…”

The director laughed softly at Tom’s anxiety,

“Say no more, mate… You go to your woman. We’ll reschedule this some other time… Tom, I like you for this part…”

Tom smiled, momentarily side tracked by his admission.

“Go! Your wife and baby are waiting!”

_______________________________________________________________________

On his way home, he phone his mum, Luke, Emma, and Sarah, who was visiting on holiday with her husband and small daughter. Through the elation, he heard and undercurrent of worry. It had been there fore seven months after they discovered her pregnancy in her first trimester. After losing Nora, there was some damage from the impact of the accident, and the surgery that had been done in order to say Elle afterwards. They were terrified and hopeful all at once.

Driving the familiar path home, he could help but think of his little Nora. It was then that his eyes watered with reverence as he thought about his would be twelve-year-old daughter. Life was so unfair and he’d lived in such agony for years after her passing. Now god had given him another chance at love and parenthood.

He remembered the way Elle cried in his arms the day they found out…

_He had come in from play rehearsals with an aching body and a starving appetite that longed to empty the contents of their fridge the moment he passed the threshold. Elle hadn’t been feeling well, and he’d almost been tempted to take the day off in order to look after her. She wasn’t ill often, but when she was it was a nightmare. Right before he’d left, he’d made her soup and kissed her brow lovingly, begging her to call if she needed anything at all._

_Now he wanted to climb upstairs and hold her for the rest of the night, like he had when they’d first met and she’d been ill. His beautiful wife was a terrible sickie._

_His head was buried in the freezer when he heard a male voice coming from upstairs. He stopped his actions, carefully shutting the door and listening to whatever was happening. He could hear Elle’s faint voice, but the male voice… who the hell was in his bedroom with her?_

_He quickly forgot about his grumbling stomach and rushed up the stairs and into the master suit where he was surprised to find his publicist sitting on the edge of the bed where his wife was sitting with red eyes and a puffy face._

_“Luke?” he questioned, demanding to know what was going on._

_“Tom,” he greeted. Luke and Elle had become tremendously close in the past three years of knowing each other. He gave her away during their wedding and was always very attentive to her. Tom knew that Luke understood what Elle meant to him. Without her, he wouldn’t be._

_“Don’t get mad, I called him,” Elle whispered softly, looking up at her husband and his bewildered expression._

_“Right…er, why?”_

_“I’ll leave you both to talk… I’ll be downstairs,”_

_Once they were alone with the door closed, Elle stood, her tiny frame swathed in one of his jumpers and a pair of leggings, and headed to the bathroom where she picked something up off of the counter and then walked back into the room where Tom stood, still very much confused as to what was happening._

_“ The reason Luke is here is because I needed him to pick these up for me...Tom, I’m pregnant,” she whispered, showing him the three tests._

_He froze in place, swallowing as if he expected the last moment of his life to be some cruel hallucination._

_“Are you sure?”_

_“I took three tests,” she laughed nervously._

_“Oh, god.” Was all he could say as he pulled her tightly to him, forgetting that she was feeling unwell, and squishing her body against his own, “oh god!”_

_Emotion swept over him, and he blinked back tears as he fell to his knees in front of her, the same way he had with his first child, and lifted the hem of her shirt, watching her cover her mouth in thick emotion._

_“Hello baby,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I’m your daddy.”_

_He continued for a few long minutes before rising to his feet and pressing his hand against her abdomen while he hugged his wife again._

_“Thank you so much,” he whispered to her reverently, “thank you, Elle.”_

_She was lost then, crying softly, confessing how scared and happy she was. He held her tightly, his nose buried deep in her hair as he comforted her, hoping to soothe some of her worry just in his embrace._

_“Everything is going to be ok. This is our second chance, my love. This is it…”_

When Tom arrived at the house, Luke and Emma both were already there, frantically running around with her bags and a pillow, yelling at each other. Tom stood there, stunned, and looked at his very pregnant wife, who was also observing the pair in amused curiosity. He watched her with a smirk until a sharp wince appeared on her face. He ran to her, dropping to the ground in front of where she sat on the sofa, and quickly took her hands in his own and kissed softly.

“Hello, my darling,”

“Hi,” she whispered. Tom could feel her fear, so he decided to distract her,

“He likes me for it,”

“I knew he would. You’re a likable guy,”

“Nepotism,” he teased softly. His hand touched her belly soothingly, “our little one is nearly here. Are you excited?”

“Yes…. A little scared, too.”

“Me too… but don’t worry. I am here with you—every step, darling.”

“I love you, Tom,”

“Ditto,”

____________________________________________________________________________

Nearly eighteen hours later, Stella Hiddleston came screaming into the world, her tiny eyes shut furiously as her father wept with emotion and overwhelming love, holding her for the very first time. He stood protectively near his wife, who looked so tired and relieved. When he looked down to her from where he was staring at the tiny creature in his arms, he saw perfect love in Elle’s eyes. Carefully, he settled their daughter against her chest, and then knelt down next to them so that he could share this experience.

“She’s perfect,” Elle wept happily. “Look at her hair!”

Stella had been born with tight blonde curls just like her father. Tom groaned in sorrow for his little one.

“Emma will call her broomhead,” he murmured, resting his chin against the bed support as he watched the two girls he loved the most in this world. Stella still whimpered, but had calmed once Elle spoke. His wife ran her fingers along their child’s soft skin and tears bloomed in her eyes. “She’s _beautiful_ ,”

“We made a baby,” Elle marveled happily, looking adoringly at her husband.

“Yes, we did. God was very good to us, papillon. He gave us a piece of his heaven.”

They selfishly stayed that way for the next few minutes before Elle’s eyes began to droop, and Tom insisted that he take his beautiful girl to meet their loved ones, so that his wife could rest. As he cradled Stella, he bent down and kissed Elle tenderly.

“Love you,”

“Me too,” she murmured dreamily, her eyes flickering closed, the complete trust in her husband resounding throughout the room as he clutched their daughter closely.

As he held Stella, and studied her, he was amazed at the way she felt. Knowing that he was her father was something a bit surreal. He and Elle had created this perfect being and now she was there, ready to fill their lives with so much happiness.

He came out into the cozy wing where there was an entire clan of people chattering happily, waiting for his arrival. A silence fell over them all as Tom appeared in the entryway, clutching his small white bundle closely, still looking at her face. She was resting, eyes closed, fists curled close to her face. Her eyes lashes were fair, and he was dying to know what her eyes would look like. He was praying for two matching bowls of chocolate pudding, just like her mummy’s, but Elle argued that a second set of Tom’s eyes would make the world a better place, and get Stella out of trouble when needed.

“Oh, Tom.” Diana cried, standing out, and covering a hand over her mouth as she approached the little one in his arms. “Oh, god… she looks _just_ like you!”

“Mum, meet my daughter, Stella Haddon Hiddleston, ten fingers and ten toes… owner of my heart.”

“Darling, she is _beautiful_ ,” Diana said, her eyes not leaving the small baby. “Hello, Stella,” she tested.

He went through the line, introducing her to everyone, accepting congratulations from his family and friends. It was such a perfect moment watch the people he loved fall in love with his child.

Luke, ever the publicist, took out his phone and snapped the very first picture of Stella Hiddleston, being adored by her father. He quickly sent out a tweet, stowed his phone, and begged Tom to hold her.

Tom conceded and watched as his friend held his daughter as if she were made of crystal. He laughed mirthfully, causing little, curious eyes to open and strain against the abusive hospital light.

“There they are,” he marveled as his family closed in, “blue…”

“All babies are born with blue eyes,” Sarah told him, “when Soph was born, she had little blue eyes and they turned brown.”

“Sophia has beautiful eyes, don’t you Soph?” Tom quizzed, reaching down and swooping his niece into his embrace. Diana took a turn with her granddaughter next, and sat on one of the hard plastic chairs, smiling like a love struck fool.

“Oh, no, my love…. These are your eyes… she looks very much like Emma when she was born,”

Emma, who had been rather silent, blinked back tears, and a soft straggled came through her throat and out of her mouth before she could stop it. Tom turned with Sophia still in his arms, and found his younger sister with two matching tears falling from her eyes. He smiled tenderly and hugged her close to him, pressing a kiss on her head.

“I’m happy for you, Tom…”

He knew that she, along with the rest of his family, had been reminiscing on Nora often, as the impending arrival of Stella grew closer. Tom knew that it had hurt his family in equivalent measures when they had lost her to the accident. Emma had been very guarded, as if to protect herself in case something were to happen again.

But everything had gone smoothly, minus the tremendous pain that his warrior of a wife has sustained during her labor. Now they were one Stella richer than yesterday.

_______________________________________________________________

 

It was late in the morning when Diana had chased everyone away in order to allow Tom and Elle some alone time with their daughter. Elle needed her rest after such a trying labor.

Tom was equally tired, but couldn’t will himself to sleep. He wanted to hold his child. He’d not let her out of his sight since her arrival the previous night, and even accompanied her to mandatory testing. He sat beside Elle as she nursed her, the sight absolutely exquisite to him.

“What are you thinking about?” Elle asked him as she caressed Stella’s curls, while the little one fed from her breast. Tom glanced up at his wife and smiled softly.

“I’m thinking about how strong you are,”

Elle laughed quietly, careful not to disturb Stella as she suckled away.

“It was hard,” she confessed, “my body is still very achy… I expect one of your glorious massages when we get home,”

“Anything, darling,” he reassured her, caressing her arm. He was in a blissful daze, counting his many fortunes, and thanking the merciful heavens that he had the two women in front of him.

“Your mom loves her middle name,” Elle told him, stroking her fingers through Stella’s curls, “she said it will give her character.”

“You were _right_ ,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes and then smiling, “Haddon _is_ perfect… we wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for Haddon,”

When they found out that Stella was a girl, the both of them had fallen in love with the name ‘Stella’. She was the _star_ in their lives, so Tom had suggested it was perfect. Her middle name had been a bit more complicated. Then one afternoon, Elle had been reclining on the sofa, eating tin biscuits when she thought about paying tribute to where they’d first met at Haddon library through her daughter’s name. At first Tom was apprehensive, but now seeing her, he realized that it was the perfect fit.

To Tom, _everything_ about his daughter was wonderful.

His phone chimed and he plucked it from the tabletop, and unlocked it. He found Luke’s tweet and smiled at the photograph of him smiling like an absolute loon at his newborn,

‘Stella Haddon Hiddleston. There is a new star of the show.’

He chuckled,

“Luke’s in love with her,”

“Everyone’s in love with her,” Elle pointed out, gently removing Stella from her breast and tucking herself back into the warm hospital gown she wore. Tom’s eyes brightened as he saw the opportunity to hold his girl again,

“Can I burp her?” he asked eagerly. Elle paused and smiled at him, feeling so fortunate to have such a supportive and dedicated husband by her side. Carefully she handed Stella over, who whimpered with a quivering lip until Tom had her tucked up carefully by his shoulder, one hand drawing circles into her back and the other cupping her feet and bum protectively. “There, there, my princess. You really are a lovely girl, aren’t you?”

He shut his eyes quietly, feeling content, inhaling the distinct smell of his newborn. Elle watched in admiration, a sight that she had always dreamed of, but could never do justice to. They were parents.

Her eyes had flickered closed when she heard Tom’s warm voice whispering to Stella,

“ _Vous êtes mon soleil, mon petite soleil…”_

In that moment, everything was worth it. Fifteen years of loving a man had brought her the greatest heartache, and now the greatest joy.

“I love you, Tom,” she whispered, curling to her side so she could see them.

He lifted his eyes, a humble and honest love present, and whispered,

“Ditto.”

                                                                 


End file.
